Parallel Convergences
by Tofucyborg
Summary: The parallel journeys of two soldiers that eventually converge under extraordinary circumstances. This story follows the thoughts and actions of Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, as they come to startling realizations about themselves and each other.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

* * *

_**Prologue  
**_

_"Wake up, Commander"_

_Commander?_

_"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now--this facility is under attack."_

Through the haze, she vaguely recognized the name that was coming through the intercom.

"Shepard, your scars aren't healed, but I need you to get moving—this facility is under attack."

The voice thoroughly unfamiliar, though the urgency nearly palpable.  
As the fog of sleep slowly lifted from her mind, blinding light greeted her as Alexandra Shepard slowly opened her eyes in order to allow them to adjust to the harsh luminescence. Explosives and gunfire going off in the distance, monitoring screens and holo medical data logs everywhere; this looked and smelled like a medical facility, though the smell quickly changing from antiseptic and sterile steel to that of smoke. Alarms blaring everywhere, and that voice! Who was that voice? Never had she been so utterly lost and confused in her entire life. Life. The last memory she had before being so rudely woken up was a black expanse of space; oxygen slowly leaking out through the breach on her suit, she vaguely recalled a panicked scream followed by an explosion that dulled her senses and nearly blasted her unconscious. She remembered being pulled into the orbit of the white-blue planet Alchera and furiously struggling to maintain whatever oxygen was left in her lungs, which were contracting to accommodate for the chilling sub-zero temperature that was quickly settling into her body through her suit breach.

"There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

That voice again; whoever she was, this obviously wasn't a drill, and the now fully awake Commander Shepard slowly moved towards the aforementioned locker—the aches and stiffness of muscles long unused made for a very awkward journey from the "bed" to the locker.

"Grab the pistol and armor from the locker. You don't have time to wait around, Shepard, grab your weapon and armor!" the voiced blared from the intercom, urgency slowly but surely giving away to small hints of panic. As she equipped the standard issue N7 armor, she realized how much muscle memory she relied on, especially during times when her upper-level processing had to handle more urgent issues. As she picked up the pistol and held it steady to shoot whatever came through the doors, she realized—

"This pistol doesn't have a thermal clip."

Exactly what was this woman playing at? Was this a drill, then? What was she supposed to do with a weapon that lacked the most essential part to its utility? She might as well—

"It's a med bay. We'll get you a clip from...Damn it! Keep your head down, Shepard, shield yourself from the blast."

How did she know there was a blast imminent? Ah, surveillance. Of course. If there was surveillance in the med bay, then this obviously wasn't an Alliance med bay. There was also a strange lack of doctors and patients, which meant—

"Someone's hacking security trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip for your pistol."

Of course. Only years of being targeted as the first human Spectre resulted in the calm intake of her current situation. As she cautiously moved towards the door through which the blast radiated, she spied a clip; ubiquitous in their usage, Shepard remembered the days when she had to slow her shooting, lest her weapon overheat. In the age of kinetic barriers however, it now came down to how quickly these detachable heat sinks could be removed and replaced. As an N7 marine with top-level training, it was no longer a question of how quickly, but how many thermal clips she had left.

She was snapped out of her reverie as the voice came through the intercom, this time with a little more calm. "Looks like they set up a barricade to try holding the mechs off. Look out!"

At that, Shepard vaulted over her current cover and charged at the lone mech slowly descending the stairs. Seeing that it did little to harm the damned thing, she released two shots—first to its legs and the second to its head. Her charge was something of note, seeing as how her amplifier implants seemed to have either been improved or completely replaced. The usual control of her nervous system and resulting electrical brain impulses were much more seamless in combat—a welcome change from the pure physical exhaustion she suffered before. _Exactly what had happened?_

"Keep moving, we need to get you to the shuttles."

There were myriad questions racing in Shepard's mind, but the obvious and inherent danger in whatever facility she was in was more than enough to put those questions on hold—at least until she found another _human_ that wasn't hostile. As she made her way further up the stairs and through the doors, the voice came through on the intercom again, "Shepard! Security mechs are closing in on your position. Take cover." Right, because she was just going to stand there like a practice target. "Don't take any chances. Stay in cover while you take out those mechs." As she gauged her surroundings and the number of hostile mechs, Shepard quickly came to the conclusion that charging into their midst would be unwise—especially without a shotgun. As accurate as this hand cannon was, it did pitiful amounts of damage when directly compared to a point-blank fire from a shotgun. Still, Shepard hadn't received the title of Commander without her adaptability. As she cleared the waves of mechs with her current resources, a door opened on the far side of the room. Taking that as a sign of her current objective she moved towards it, when she saw something on the other side of the plated windows that chilled her blood and halted her steps. A huge machine—unlike the humanoid mechs she had just cleared—was mowing down everything in its path, leaving a trail of flame and destruction behind it. It looked like the victims of its missiles were as shocked as she was, by the look of utter terror on their faces. Ah, so it had gone rogue, which could only mean that—

"Don't waste time. I can't keep the mechs distracted for long."

Right. She was still trapped on this facility with only a disembodied voice through the intercom to guide her to the shuttles. As she entered the next room, she spied a grenade launcher—crude in its design, but obviously fit to do its job properly. As she bent down to pick it up she heard, "More reinforcements heading your way. Grab the grenade launcher off the security officer's body." _Already ahead of you, _she mused to herself. While incredibly useful in taking out a group of hostiles with one shot, using a grenade launcher always unfortunately resulted in heavy collateral damage—in this case a blown fuel tank. Using the age-old technique of passing one's finger through a lit candle without harm, Shepard stormed through the fire as fast as her stiff muscles could carry her.

"You're doing...—Shepard. Head to the next...—meet you..."

There was heavy interference in the intercom; whether deliberate or not, Shepard couldn't tell.

"Shepard? —read me? I've got...—closing in...—position"

Ah, so it _was_ deliberate, though by a third party. Sparing no time, Shepard quickly realized that as grating as the voice was, it had been her only means of escape and direction. With no familiarity of the facility whatsoever she continued on, pistol at the ready, in case she came upon anything hostile with a firearm. The next room she entered held two mechs, except these were _crawling_ on the floor. Hostile or not, they posed a threat to her, and if not to her, at least to the decor of the room. As serious a situation she was in at the moment, she couldn't help tucking the image of two crawling mechs away in her mind, for future laughs. When she was done putting rounds into the aforementioned mechs, Shepard paused to give careful examination of the room and its data logs. As she pulled one up, she saw the face of a woman with.._the voice!_ Finally able to attach a face to a voice, Shepard listened to the entry made by the woman.

"Progress is slow, but subject shows signs of recovery. Major organs are again functional, and there signs of rudimentary neurological activity."

Subject? _Major organs again functional?_ What was this entry referring to?

"In an effort to accelerate the process, we've moved from simple organic reconstruction of the subject, to biosynthetic fusion. Initial results show promise."

Organic reconstruction...to _biosynthetic_ fusion? Shepard slowly raised a trembling hand to the scars laden on her face. Surely these couldn't be...

Shepard moved to another data log on the other table and pulled another entry up. This time, it was a man's voice:

"Log update: The cost of this project is astronomical...over four billion credits so far. But nobody seems to care that we've gone over budget. I don't know where the boss gets all his money...maybe, it's better not to know. I just wish he'd kick a little more in my direction once in a while."

Four..._billion_...credits? Astronomical, indeed. And who was this 'boss' that he had mentioned? If Shepard was going to get any answers, she knew it wouldn't be from this 'boss'. That many credits couldn't have all come from legitimate businesses, and whatever illicit projects this 'boss' had invested in, it became apparent to Shepard that _this_ particular project had not been normal, and most certainly hadn't been public knowledge. Upon closer examination of the files plastered all along the room, Shepard saw her name. Not only that, but _her_ identification code. She stopped cold. That was _her_ utterly decimated skeleton on the x-rays; _her_ optic nerve on the diagrams; _her _blood cells. That had been _her_. She...had _died_, and had then been _brought back to life_. As realization rapidly dawned on her, Shepard began to make sense of her current situation and everything that had happened prior to waking up in that med bay.

_An unidentified vessel had taken on an hostile intercept trajectory with the SSV Normandy and had shot through her hull like a hot knife on butter. Shepard had scrambled to get everyone aboard the escape pods, and had almost made it to the last one with Joker, when an explosion blasted her away from the pod and into space. The panicked scream was from Joker, as the pod's emergency latches shut and launched it towards its pre-programmed destination. The painful contractions of her lungs and weightlessness of space slowly descended into darkness, as Shepard's body entered Alchera's orbit and reached terminal velocity._

And here she was. Alive, and slowly fighting her way out amidst waves of mechs. She had been brought back from the peaceful respite of death. But for what reason? A four billion-plus credit investment was not a trivial thing; whoever had brought her back had a damned good reason. And what had happened to the crew? Pressly? Joker? Chakwas? And her teammates? Garrus, Wrex, Ash, Tali, Liara...had they made it? Forcing these thoughts to the back of her mind for the present, Shepard continued on, until she entered a well-lit room. A quick scan indicated several mechs on the other side of the platform, and taking cover was—

"Gravity's one mean mother, huh?"

There was a man in uniform, pulling each mech towards him carefully and shooting them while they were suspended in the air. It made for very quick and efficient kills. Shepard ran over to him and took cover, warily noting that at least the very least, their pistols were pointing at the same enemy.

"Shepard? What the hell—?"

As the shooting escalated, all conversation was staved until the mechs were taken out. When there was a break in the shooting, however, the man turned to her and asked, "What are you doing here? I thought you were still a work in progress."

A work in progress? Was she nothing but a science project to these people? "I just woke up! You probably know more than I do." He quickly replied, "Right, sorry about that. I'm Jacob Taylor. I've been stationed here for—" He was quickly cut off as a mech zeroed in on their location. As wary as she was, Shepard was able to appreciate Jacob's impressive aim and trigger finger. As he returned to cover he continued, "Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda has got _you_ running around. I'll fill you in, but we better get you to the shuttle first." _Miranda_. So that was the woman to whom the grating voice belonged. Miranda and Jacob. She was running purely on nerves and adrenaline now, the latter of which was quickly fading. There were still so many unanswered questions, and while she knew Jacob's targets were the same as hers, she was still wary as to whether or not his pistol would soon be trained on her next. Shepard replied, "I know this isn't the best time, but I'm sick of stumbling around when I don't know what's going on."

"Fair enough. I'll give you the quick version. You and your ship were attacked and destroyed. You were killed. Dead as dead can be when they brought you here. Our scientists spent the last two years putting you back together. You've been comatose, or worse that whole time. Welcome back to your life."

Quick version, alright. As Jacob reaffirmed her suspicions, one more thing stood out in her mind. _Two years_. She had been dead for two whole years. What had happened during that time? Where was her crew now? Amidst these questions, there was still one other that neither the logs nor Miranda hadn't answered.

"This doesn't look like an Alliance facility."

"It isn't. I can't say much more than that for now. The Alliance officially declared you killed in action. The whole galaxy thinks you're dead. And if we don't get to those shuttles, they'll be right."

_I can't say much more than that for now_. Exactly who was Jacob working for? Why was he not disclosing the name of the facility? Shepard's suspicions, far from being quelled, flared up. And as if expecting a slew of questions, Jacob quickly replied,

"I'll tell you what—you help me finish off these mechs, and I'll play Twenty Questions with you all day."

That seemed like a fair trade-off, so Shepard complied, although she came to the unfortunate conclusion that her precious charges couldn't be done over air. So they had to settle with Jacob's pulls and Shepard's pistol. When they were done, as per their agreement Jacob continued quietly, "Okay. I promised I'd answer your questions. What do you want to know?"

"You said they spent two years rebuilding me? How bad were my injuries?"

"I'm no doctor, but it was bad. When I first saw you, you were nothing but meat and tubes. Anywhere else, they'd have put you in a coffin. But Project Lazarus was different. Cutting edge technology."

_She _had been the subject; _she _had been theproject. _Project Lazarus_; the biblical analogy did not go unnoticed by Shepard. _Cutting edge technology_, he had said. The fact that she had retained all her memories and rote muscle memory meant that cloning was out of the question. So she _had_ gotten her amplifier implants replaced. What were they now? Probably extensive cybernetic implants that had yet to be introduced to the public. Judging by the cost of bringing _her_ back to life, Shepard doubted that there were very many other subjects. It looked like Project Lazarus had been developed and carried out for one specific subject.

"The last thing I remember is the Normandy blowing up. Did anyone else make it?"

"Just about everybody survived. A few servicemen from the lower decks didn't get out. Navigator Pressly was killed by an explosion. But everyone else, including the non-Alliance crew—the asari, Liara, and the quarian—they all made it out alive."

Oh, Pressly...

"Do you know what any of them are doing now?"

"I don't know, Commander, it's been two years. They've moved on. Left the Alliance. Could be anywhere."

Shepard was slowly growing impatient with the lack of substantial answers she was getting, and she could tell they were slowly getting to the point of conversation exhaustion, as Jacob would no longer be able to answer her other questions without compromising his conscience. All she wanted now was to get off the damned station.

"What's the quickest way to those shuttles?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

For those of you who made it through that, you have my deepest thanks and appreciation. This is a big project I am taking on, in light of some inspiring things I've read, and I want to make it as truthful and entertaining as humanly (or turianly!) as possible. All reviews, questions, comments, and concerns are more than welcome; please take a moment to let me know how I'm doing.

As I am trying to keep both Shepard and Garrus in-character and also trying to keep the chronological progression accurate but not too slow, I will occasionally alter in-game conversations and scenarios to suit my evil needs. I have the next three chapters planned and written; I want to get a feel for what you, the readers, think before I post said chapters. This will be a slow story; my take on the Shepard/Garrus pairing is that both are hardened by their past experiences in the military. Therefore neither of them will be easy characters to work with, since their relationship initially started out civil, rather than platonic or even romantic. I plan on trying my best to keep everyone satisfied (although unlikely) and making this story a successful one.

Thanks again! :)


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

"Welcome aboard the new Normandy, Commander."

Jacob's voice, far from bringing her comfort and reassurance, instead resurfaced painful memories of the old Normandy SR-1. For some reason, it felt wrong to see SR-2 on the wings of the ship—as if in accepting it, she was somehow doing a terrible injustice to the SR-1 and the crew members who had died that day. Nonetheless, she was the Commander; a crew, no doubt hand-picked by the Illusive Man himself, awaited orders with bated breath at their respective stations. She slowly walked along the corridor to the Combat Information Center, recognizing the similarities, but mourning the differences. With a distasteful Cerberus insignia on the helm of the ship, Shepard reluctantly resigned herself to the knowledge that she would be branded a traitor and judged harshly by those who had known her prior to her death. She had no rebuttals to give to these people, since their ignorance would show itself early and ultimately amount to nothing. She would do what was expected of her—not by the Illusive Man, but from herself.

Freedom's Progress had been a shocking revelation, not to mention the unscheduled meeting with Tali. Shepard was well aware of the quarians' past history with Cerberus and expected no sympathy from Tali, but Tali's ability to see through the exterior of any situation had not abated in the least. She had been warm and welcoming towards Shepard, and her unquestioning cooperation had made the entire mission a relative success. Shepard had been slightly more than disappointed when Tali declined her offer of joining, though she was relieved that it was for personal reasons, and not Shepard's current affiliation. It had made the parting a peaceful one.

Shepard's debriefing with the Illusive Man had left her more frustrated than a debriefing should have. Yet another dangerous player in this game for keeps, the Illusive Man proved to be what her initial impressions of the 'boss' had been; indeed he had not answered any of her questions, but instead used clever conversation skills to mask his empty answers. He was far from forthcoming in his assurances of his noble intentions. Not only that, but he had been withholding information regarding the relationship between the Reapers and Collectors, and had no leads or further information regarding her old teammates. In the end, it was all she could do to invoke her Spectre status to see if it the Citadel Council would be more cooperative. Hearing and seeing Joker at the end of that debriefing had been a joyous end to what she realized would become a frequent interaction. In the midst of the unfamiliar faces of her current crew, it was a comforting sight to see Joker in his usual seat at the helm of the Normandy, signature smirk on his face as his tell-tale greeting.

"I've been looking over the dossiers. I'd strongly recommend starting by acquiring Mordin Solus, the salarian professor on Omega. We know the Collectors use some type of advanced technology to immobilize their victims. We'll need him to develop a countermeasure to protect us." Miranda offered. It had been strange to meet the woman that had led the Lazarus Project from infancy to fruition, bringing Shepard back to life. Cerberus lackey though she was, Shepard recognized the steel in the woman's eyes as she put a bullet through Wilson, a medical officer who also oversaw the project alongside Miranda. Coldly, the Cerberus officer explained that Wilson had hacked all the security mechs, and had even gone so far as to self-inflict a gun wound on his leg in order to bolster false trust between Shepard, Jacob, and himself. Miranda's unflinching attitude of getting things done as efficiently as possible was something that resonated with Shepard deeply; for that, the woman earned a civil attitude from Shepard. Whether or not she would be able to fulfill the Executive Officer position under Shepard's command would be something else entirely.

"Without that countermeasure, we'll be helpless if we ever run into the Collectors." Shepard answered.

Suddenly, another voice resonated throughout the CIC; one that belonged to neither Jacob nor Miranda: "Acquiring Professor Solus seems like the most logical place to start."

It was synthesized and mechanical. Surely, not after the hundreds of geth she had fought, would the Illusive Man be so audacious...

"Who are you?"

"I am the Normandy's artificial intelligence. The crew like to refer to me as EDI." _Ah,_ so he had done it. After all the rogue geth she had decimated; after she saw what it had done to the quarians, the Illusive Man had deliberately installed a damnable AI on board. Shepard stubbornly refused to cooperate with an artificial intelligence; especially after seeing the damage it could do under rogue protocols. All the geth on Feros, Noveria, Therum, Ilos, and the Citadel were a testament to that belief. AIs were useful at best, but deadly and destructive at worse; the cost-benefit ratio was too steeply skewed for Shepard to be comfortable with having it on her ship.

"Get this thing off my ship!"

"Have I offended?"

Miranda answered for her: "Commander Shepard spent a lot of time fighting rogue AI on the Citadel." _A little more than that, Miranda_, Shepard thought to herself. _No use in trivializing the past_.

EDI replied, "Your distrust is logical, Shepard, unlike the illogical distrust of others I face routinely. I assure you that my purpose here is not to take human lives."

With that, it disappeared from its console base. It had called her distrust _logical_. What kind of AI was this? Clearly the Illusive Man had put no limit to the resources that funded the construction of this ship. If that were the case, then this particular artificial intelligence—EDI—was somehow different. Shepard made a mental note to have a more extensive talk with the AI later, as well as to check in with Joker. No helmsman appreciated having an AI on deck—especially Joker, since his talents were renowned in the Alliance Navy.

With a sigh, Shepard made her way onto the platform deck of the CIC and found that the galaxy map had also been given some slight improvements. Flight vectors no longer produced drifts of more than a few thousand kilometers, and the long-range scanner seemed to be able to provide more detailed information on the weather and atmospheric patterns on planets. Wasting no time in acquiring her first recruit, she called to her trusted pilot:

"Joker, set a course for Omega."

After a short pause, he replied with vigor,

"Aye aye, Commander. Plotting a course for Omega; ETA about five hours."


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

* * *

_**Chapter 2**_

A reflection of past mistakes and regrets often leaves one very empty and hollow. However, as fickle as regrets are, there are some that engender the will to action—both beneficial and malevolent. For Garrus Vakarian, it was both. From his earlier years in C-Sec, the importance of honor and justice had been seamlessly interwoven into his work and personal philosophy. However, maintaining constant vigilance over a place such as Omega had robbed him of whatever sense of pride and honor his race had been founded upon.

_Omega_, the name of the the godforsaken station on the fringes of the Terminus Systems; it was no surprise, then, that this was indeed the _last_ place any innocent or law-abiding citizen would step foot in. And the first place Garrus Vakarian sought after, when he quickly came to realize that his presence as a C-Sec officer was more of a hindrance than help when it came to maintaining balance on the Citadel. Garrus still wore his C-Sec officer insignia on his right arm—a tribute to what C-Sec had initially stood for when he first joined; honor, pride in one's work, knowing that each of them had the rare opportunity to make a difference on the Citadel and in Citadel Space. All that had fallen to political bureaucracy and corruption over the past few years. Two years, to be exact. Two years, since the Citadel Council scrambled to repay humanity for their enormous sacrifice in saving the Destiny Ascension by hastily offering them a seat on the Council. Two years, since said human-kind had all but taken over Citadel Security and assumed a role of muted dominance in the galaxy. Two years, since the death of Sovereign and Saren. Two years, since...the one unifying voice in all of Council space had forever been muted.

Ever since the Relay 314 Incident in 2157, the humans had been forever pegged as unthinking aggressors, while xenophobia raged amongst the Systems Alliance. Veterans like Saren had forever been changed by the event, and harbored nothing but ill-will for the new race that was just emerging from their scientific and military infancy. Garrus, however, was not a good turian. He was not so quick as to label these humans as a potential threat without unquestionable evidence. During his many days as a C-Sec officer, Garrus often came across humans that exhibited more understanding and compassion than some of his turian counterparts. The raging xenophobia and discrimination drove him crazy, as he became increasingly irked by the fact that _honorable_ officers harbored such dishonorable intentions and impressions of another race. He understood that with any new race that was introduced into Council space, they would come with their own drawbacks and positive attributes; it was no one's inherent right to outwardly discriminate against these races, regardless of their past history. _Especially_ when there were much larger issues at stake for the stability and peace of the galaxy. When he met Commander Shepard for the first time, he knew that she understood it too.

"_Commander Shepard? Garrus Vakarian. I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren." He said as a way of greeting. Garrus was not a foolhardy fan-boy, nor was he ignorant enough to not realize that he was in the presence of one whose mere countenance demanded attention. He was a C-Sec officer, she was a military Commander; respect was given where it was due._

_Without pause, she asked, "Come across anything I should know about?"_

"_Saren's a Spectre; most of his activities are classified. I couldn't find anything solid," he replied, frustration heavily laced in his voice. "But I know he's up to _something_. Like you humans say, 'I feel it in my gut'."_

_At that point, the man standing next to her right interrupted by letting her know that their meeting with the Council was set to begin soon. _

"_Good luck, Shepard," he said in a manner of farewells, "Maybe they'll listen to _you_."_

_As the three humans walked away, Garrus had a distinct feeling that that would not be the last of their meetings._

_Commander Shepard_. First human Spectre, savior of the Citadel; one of the first human commanders to willingly travel and fight with human and non-human crew alike with no allocations of favoritism or outward discrimination. On a ship that was built by both humans and turians, nonetheless. Garrus was never one for hasty actions or spur of the moment decisions; his military training had long-embedded a shrewdness in his calculations that were not overlooked by his superiors. He was known for his heady determination in weighing each side of a case, which was why he was such a successful C-Sec officer; his objectiveness was unparalleled. However, one short conversation with this human commander was all it took for Garrus to come to the realization that his position as a C-Sec officer was no more helpful in bringing Saren to justice than the hanar preaching on the Presidium. It was a decision made on the spur of the moment— something that would change his life forever.

In the traverse, traveling with a Spectre had its unlimited perks; it was as if the crew had a personal trophy or badge to show whoever they came across---and everyone was aware of it. Having said Spectre be the first human, however, held more drawbacks than it was worth. A disbelieving glance here, a cold scoff there; humans were still not held in high regard. Regardless, though, Garrus witnessed first-hand the fire and determination that made Shepard _Commander_, and when not using her status as a bargaining tool or intimidation tactic, her enemies were quickly forced to reckon with her unflinching willpower and unwavering aim. Every shot she took was intended; every action carefully premeditated. And at the end of each confrontation, it was always _her_ team that stood standing.

Her leadership was unchallenged, not even by the heady krogan, for he knew the strength that Shepard brought with her on every mission, and embodied as a Commander. Not only that, but her respect had been dutifully earned, not demanded. She was very well aware that having a non-human crew meant more than a few hostile situations and unspoken grievances by some of her human crew members. Garrus realized very early on, that Shepard had not only been their Commander, but also their resident diplomat, tirelessly working towards at least unifying the crew towards a common goal—eliminating Saren and quelling the Reaper threat.

_Reapers_. Now reduced to a mere bedtime story for little ones, the Council had shamelessly covered up their initial promise of unifying the galaxy in the face of such a dire threat, and had reduced it to nothing but a made-up fantasy by a delirious Commander Shepard, who _undoubtedly_ had been controlled by Saren to believe such things. Ah, ever the action of single-minded cowards.

His reverie was ended abruptly by a loud engine, and an even louder voice:

"Archangel!"

Garrus glanced to his right from his current position. _Shit._

"If you thought you had been smart enough to take us down, _you were wrong_!"

A gunship made from crude, unrefined iridium and hastily put together to form the most amount of defense, with very little utility. He could tell just from looking at it, that the iridium had gone through clumsy stages of powder metallurgy, since the metal in its pure form was excruciatingly difficult to work with. It looked like it had been painted over as well, perhaps to give the gunship an overall menacing look. The sheer size of the thing made up for its inherent deficiencies however, and Garrus knew that his stint as a failed turian vigilante was quickly drawing to a close. _No,_ he thought. _My men would never forgive me if I didn't even go down fighting. _He quickly scanned the room for the best cover he could find and ducked behind it, hastily coming up with a plan to at least debilitate the massive gunship that was threatening his demise.

_A gunship like that has heavy reinforcement plating all over...except..._

Garrus peeked over from his cover at the gunship, now scanning the room for a flash of blue that would indicate its unfortunate target. His visor displayed readings of hull and plating thickness all around the gunship. As he focused his eyes on the bottom of the machine, near where the defense turrets had been attached, Garrus saw that the plating there _was_ much thinner—mainly in order to make up for the weight of the missile turrets.

The turrets and bottom hull had to be carefully counterbalanced on any gunship, lest the sheer weight of the iridium, along with its flammable dust compounds, and blast of the mass accelerator overheat and destroy the ship in the process. As per his suspicions, his readings indicated that the defensive plating was _much_ thinner there; enough for two shots to jam the accelerators and quickly overheat the turrets. He knew that it wouldn't destroy the gunship, but it would most certainly put it out of commission for some time; hopefully enough for him to be able to escape. _Not hardly; escape would mean getting out alive_, he mused to himself. As he knew he had very little time left, and a very small opening in which to take his two shots, Garrus took a deep breath, looked over his cover, and lined up his shots. The heavy plating prevented the gunship from moving around significantly, seeing as how staying airborne seemed to already be using up its limited resources exponentially. He took the first shot, the slug finding its target with ease. He quickly ducked back under cover, when he felt, rather than heard, missiles flying above his head, his hearing becoming slightly dulled by the massive blasts.

Apparently, his calculations had been wrong. The missiles that were now slowly approaching his actual position were doing so with an unpredictable trajectory. Which could only mean that the accelerators had jammed, and the turrets were quickly overheating and causing the missiles to be launched without proper acceleration and direction. It wouldn't be long, now, until...

"Argh! Damn you, you son of a bitch!"

Garrus spared a cold, mocking twitch of his mandibles; a blast, emitting heat and smoke at violent speeds, indicated the explosion of the turrets, as the now useless gunship quickly made its way back to its base for repairs.

With that threat taken care of for the meantime, Garrus returned to his original sniping post; ready for whatever mercenary onslaught came his way. His grief and insatiable thirst for vengeance serving as his replacement adrenaline, Garrus shot everything that moved with life in his scope, as he ruthlessly continued his quest for revenge. _His_ men, the men he had failed, urging him on to atone for each of their deaths with that of more and more mercenaries.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Thank you again for your continuous support and patience. I apologize if the length of each chapter is too short; I'm aware that the lack of dialogue and excess of exposition in these chapters can get a little overwhelming. Rest assured, the exposition is necessary for a more linear understanding of our beloved two characters.

As a quick update, Chapter 4 is almost done, and I will be posting Chapter 3 after proper edits.

:)


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

"Finally, they send me someone who looks like they can fight."

_Oh, if you only knew, _Shepard thought to herself.

Time had passed in a blur since her escape from the ruined Cerberus facility. _Cerberus_. That name brought with it violent memories of the experiments, and the utter horror when she had first encountered them. And now she was being forced to work with them as the only means of destroying the Collectors and getting one step closer to eliminating the Reaper threat.

_Reapers_. She had gone to the Citadel after a troubling message from Captain Anderson— now Councilor —outlining her suspicious alliance with a sworn enemy of the Council. She had gone there to explain, to clarify what had happened in the last two years, and most importantly to reaffirm the Reaper threat. She was instead bombarded by patronizing chiding from the Councilors, accusatory glances of this _supposed_ Reaper threat. _Supposed?! _ The Councilors had seen first-hand the sentient machine malevolently sitting atop the Council chambers, waiting to continue the cycle of genocide, like a vulture waiting to close in on its prey. They had also heard _her_ voice, when she made the decision to send the fleet in to _rescue_ the damned Ascension _from_ ascension! And yet they chose to blindly negate all her efforts and spit on the memories of the hundreds of soldiers who had given their lives that day to save their _beloved_ Council. Their fear and single-minded cowardice prevented them from coming to terms with the fact that the Reapers— an ancient race of sentient machines who had eliminated the Protheans— was a true threat on the horizon. Not only that, but the Council had the audacity to imply that Shepard's mind was weak enough to be manipulated by Cerberus into thinking that this Reaper threat was absolute.

What the Council didn't realize at the time, was that Anderson had been their only saving grace. Were it not for Anderson's presence and continued support, Shepard would have walked out of the room, leaving the Council to deal with whatever damnation befell on their pathetic existences. Instead, his acknowledgment and understanding of her stance was the one thing that allowed her to calmly accept the reinstatement of her Spectre status. Whatever suspicions Anderson had of her current allegiance, it had been set aside as they discussed the Reaper and Collector threat, and the distinct possibility that the latter was being used by the former— just as Saren and the geth had been used by Sovereign.

As Anderson had been reluctantly unwilling to disclose any information about Ashley, Shepard quickly realized that the Council would not be a main player this time around. Their own demise through their cowardice and stupidity would be well-deserved, and Shepard would not spare a second glance, should the Destiny Ascension once again need rescue. She was on her own now, 'peripheral support' be damned— which explained her presence on _Omega,_ of all places, playing turncoat for the banded mercenary groups, in order to attempt to recruit a turian vigilante with a questionable track record. If it weren't for the salarian doctor they had picked up a few hours back, Shepard would've heavily questioned the dossiers she had been given by the Illusive Man; anyone being hand-picked by him warranted nothing but the highest suspicion. Instead, Professor Solus had proved to be a valuable asset to the research lab and in combat. His tech skills were unsurpassed, and his lab work was brutally efficient, although his character and motivations were hard to read.

______

Their conversation with the batarian who met them at the landing point was rather amusing, if not informative. Salkie was his name, and from the amount of information he was giving them, it seemed his position in the Blue Suns was more than a lackey, but less than anyone of importance or who warranted caution.

"If they can get the gunship flying again, that'll help. But I'm hoping the infiltration team will finish the job and we can all go home."

_Gunship?_

"They were using a gunship to take out one guy?" Shepard asked in disbelief.

"Yeah— and Archangel shot it down. He didn't destroy it, but he knew just where to hit it to disable it. It wasn't even a fair fight. At least not for us." The batarian Blue Suns merc answered ruefully. Hah, a fair fight indeed. This Archangel proved to be more intriguing than Shepard had initially imagined. Destroying a gunship with considerable firepower was one thing; disabling it with a few shots of a sniper rifle enough to cause a stir amongst the mercenary groups was an other thing _entirely_. From his dossier, Shepard knew Archangel was incredibly skilled behind the scope of a sniper rifle; this new information showed his perspicacity and tactical skills in what seemed like a tight situation. _Good,_ she thought, _he'll be an excellent addition to the team_. The fact that a gunship had to be brought out at all made Shepard chuckle inwardly. Her curiosity was piqued; this was not a normal turian vigilante. W_ho was he?_

"Shepard, I have scanned the area, but I am unable to plot any other paths to Archangel." The voice of EDI sounded through her comm, reiterating what Shepard had already feared; it seemed they were going to have to fight their way out once they got in. After an extensive review of the AI's protocols and capacities, Shepard came to a reluctant conclusion that, while trusting it was out of the question, simple tolerance would be enough to utilize its more beneficial functions.

With a sigh, Shepard replied, "Guess we're going with the mercs."

"The heavy mechs and gunship possess considerable firepower. Weakening them before leaving will improve your chances." Occasionally, EDI supplied valuable bits of information that Shepard and her team would normally never have access to. This made for a more smooth run, and smaller chances of casualties or failures. While uncomfortable with the AI on the ship, it put Shepard's mind at ease when EDI was able to gain access to an enemy's base and their defenses. A strange dichotomy it was. Shepard left in search of the storage room with the YMRI and other mechs, and to gather any more information on Archangel as well as the three mercenary groups that had reluctantly formed a pact to take him down.

After getting naught but pitiful stories of personal vendettas against Archangel from the leaders of the Eclipse and Blood Pack, Shepard came across the disheveled and rather unpleasant form of Tarak, the Blue Suns leader on Omega. A slightly overweight batarian with a nasty disposition, he came close to throwing them out of the room when Zaeed spoke up.

"Tarak. What's eating your arse?"

Tarak looked up, surprised to hear his name from such a rough voice. "Zaeed?" he asked in disbelief.

"You two know each other?" Shepard asked. The dossiers didn't say much about Zaeed, except that he was a brutal and skilled merc for hire. Given his history, though, Shepard shouldn't have been surprised that he was familiar with members of other mercenary groups. And the Blue Suns emblem tattooed on his neck didn't leave room for much interpretation, either.

"We...worked together, once." he replied a little regretfully.

At that, Tarak responded, "Since when do you work for so little?"

"Since when are you a goddamned madman?"

Tarak's expression shifted ever so slightly into that of sheer panic and fear. It was quick, but Shepard caught it as she observed the exchange. "It's Archangel!" he pressed, "This guy's gonna kill me. Almost did already!"

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse. Look, Zaeed, I gotta deal with this shit." He turned to his lieutenant, "Jentha, talk to these guys, answer whatever questions they have." As he looked back to Zaeed, he said, "Good to see you. Who knows? Maybe you'll solve my problem for me."

"Anything's possible."

The woman named Jentha beckoned them over. "Good thing you know him. Tarak _hates_ having to hire freelancers; he doesn't trust anyone outside the Blue Suns."

Zaeed scoffed, "You don't say!"

She continued, "What can I do for you?"

"What's Tarak going do if the infiltration team fails?" Shepard asked. _Because they will._

"To start, he'll shoot any freelancers that are still alive. And after that, he'll let the Eclipse and Blood Pack take their shots." She sighed, "They suggest we work together, but he doesn't trust the other groups."

"What if Archangel survives all the attacks? Then you Suns are on your own." _As more target practice for us._

"That's why Tarak wants that gunship fixed so badly. But it won't come to that. Archangel's good, but he can't hold out that long. He's already been in there over a day." _Oh, he'll hold out. _

Shepard was done asking questions, as she still had to find and disable the heavy mech and gunship, and report to Cathka. Jentha and Tarak were able to give her a little more detail regarding Archangel's situation and the opposition they'd soon be facing on their way out, which was more than she could say for the others they had encountered. While Shepard was confident in her and her team's ability to get across the bridge without opposition from the other freelancers, she worried slightly that Archangel's rifle would be poised on them as well. _Well,_ she thought_, if he is as clever as everyone says he is, he'll be able to see that my crosshairs will be trained on the freelancer in front of me and not at him._ That was their only chance of getting across the bridge safely. If not, well..._we'll cross that bridge when we get there_, she thought with a smirk.

Bypassing the heavy mech IFF was easy enough, but when Shepard came upon the aforementioned gunship, her search for a way to further disable it resulted in nothing but futile glances and a slight tension between her shoulder blades. The gunship itself wasn't damaged, per se; if she looked carefully, she was able to see that its defense turrets had either melted or exploded off. It looked like Archangel had jammed the mass accelerator. _Clever indeed._

"Cathka?" She inquired to a sullen-faced human with an abhorrent green tinge to his cheap armor. _Looks like even sergeants don't get enough pay to buy decent armor,_ she mused to herself. The human gestured to the batarian standing behind him, walking away with a disinterested air of arrogance. _Wonder how long he'll last under gunfire?_

As she made her way to the batarian, he replied,

"_Sergeant_ Cathka," as he depolarized the visor on his helmet, giving her, Zaeed, and Mordin a once-over. "Mm, you must be the group Salkie mentioned. And just in time."

"Were you waiting for us?"

"The infiltration team is about to give us a signal. Archangel," he spat, "won't know what hit him."

_We'll see about that_.

Shepard learned that Cathka was the one in charge of repairing the gunship. As she saw him place a tool down to light up a cigarette, an idea formed in her mind.

"You freelancers get the privilege of—"

He was cut off as the infiltration team radioed in and indicated their position.

"Check," he replied, "Bravo team! Go, go, go!"

As he turned back to Shepard, there was an evil grin on his face as he said, "Archangel's got quite a surprise waiting for him. But, that means no more waiting for me." He turned back to the gunship. "Gotta get her back to a hundred percent before Tarak decides he needs her again. Now where did I put my omni-tool?"

Seeing an opening, Shepard grabbed the electric welder that seemed to function as a current inducer. As she walked up to Cathka, he looked at her questioningly before Shepard shoved the tool into the back slot of his suit.

"You're working too hard."

As she saw the current flow through his body at perilous voltages, Shepard walked away to get ready for the battle to come. _I've gotten myself out of worse scuffles than this,_ she thought as she jumped over the barricade onto the bridge.

"Come on," she replied cracking her knuckles, "let's give these guys a surprise of our own."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I'm trying my best to keep the story as close to the game as possible, so please let me know if I'm succeeding or failing miserably. However, I do take a few creative liberties here and there to make sure everything flows properly. I'm having a little bit of difficulty with the formatting, so please bear with me for now. We have some Garrus and Shepard interaction in the next chapter, and I've tried to balance out the exposition and dialogue across both characters' points of view. Hopefully it won't crash and burn like my baking skills.

Also, I'm not going to lie; I giggled a bit to myself with the 'bridge' pun. I thought at least that was tastefully done. :D

Lastly, in regards to the previous chapter, I referenced a wikipedia article on the element iridium in order to accurately represent its traits, processes, and uses. While I do not have a background in chemistry, I hope the information I used in the chapter retained _some_ semblance of truth. If not, _please_ let me know; I would hate to do such an injustice to a worthy field of study.

And lastly lastly (promise), reviews are yummy. Like tofu. :) I would love to hear some feedback on my progress and points of improvement. It is always an enlightening and humbling experience to be able to catch a glimpse of what my readers think and feel when they review my work. I admit sometimes that I am in such awe of some writers that I feel like whatever I say will be pointless or come across as stupid, so I refrain from reviewing (_not_ to say that I'm anyone worth of awe!). I'm working on fixing that aspect of myself and giving compliments and constructive criticism where they are due. Bah, I'm rambling now, but I hope you get the point. My apologies for the long AN, it won't happen again! (maybe)


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

"That son of a bitch has a grenade launcher!" he muttered to himself, as he quickly took cover from the blast that hit the wall behind him.

The room was more likely to collapse before he did, which was saying something, as he had been without proper rest or nutrition for quite some time now. As Garrus shifted his weight to peer through the scope to take out the damnable insect with the grenade launcher, what he saw froze him. _Was that...? No, it couldn't be. _But it was. His armor, was it really..._green_? And not only green, but a _sickly _green that reminded him of a less-than appetizing dish on Palaven. Garrus let out an indignant huff as he happily pulled the trigger. _Idiots like that shouldn't be allowed to hold a gun, much less a grenade launcher,_ he thought. Vanity was not one of Garrus' apparent traits, though his sense of aesthetics were far superior than most. He simply believed in a certain order and custom to things which included proper-colored armor on anyone holding a firearm.

Of all the dullards the mercenary bands had hired to take him out, this one had been by far the most entertaining. It seemed to him that the groups were getting more desperate and hiring anyone with a gun and a need for quick credits. At the very least, it made Garrus' job slightly easier, as he was now dealing with amateurs whose aim was about as good as a fresh ensign's. He put bullet after bullet into their heads as he took the time to toy with them; hitting them with a concussive round first, and then while they celebrated their adversary's lack of aim, hitting them with a silent shot between the eyes.

It seemed there was another wave incoming, though Garrus was slightly disheartened that these were not as entertaining as the last. In fact, as he took a closer look through his scope, he quickly realized that there was a salarian in their midst. _Jaroth?_ he thought, as he zoomed in further. _No, not Jaroth. _But certainly as battle-hardened, as he saw the salarian's scars. And who were the other two? They were human no doubt, and very skilled, it seemed. It also seemed these three were also playing turncoat for the mercenary group as well; the heavily-scarred human had a deadly aim with his _assault rifle_, nonetheless, and virtually no sign of recoil, which was impressive. The last one— it looked like a human female with the build— was quickly advancing her way through the groups ahead of her, using some kind of biotic charge to get into point-blank range, and firing what looked like a shotgun.

A closer inspection of the female's armor indicated that it was standard-issue N7 plating. _N7_? Had someone in C-Sec heard of his escapades in Omega and notified the Alliance? No, there was no way an Alliance vessel would willingly be sent by the Council to the Terminus Systems. Then what...? There was also the pressing question of why these three were shooting at the same group he was, when it was clear that they had gone in _with_ them. Well, as long as their crosshairs were not aiming for his head, he figured he ought to at least humor them in whatever business they came to conduct.

He decided to toy with the N7 as well—especially since if they were on their way to talk to him or to negotiate with him, they were taking much too long. It wouldn't be much longer before the mercs behind the barricade noticed that their colleagues and other freelancers were being put down by the bullets of the three rather conspicuous freelancers who were halfway across the bridge.

Garrus pulled the trigger twice, releasing two concussive shots that brought the N7's shield down to half. From there, he released another towards the salarian's head, and another towards the scarred male's legs, both bringing their respective shields down to 75%. _There, that should give them enough initiative to move quicker_.

As the three points of intrigue made their way into the base and up the rear stairs, Garrus heard a slight scuffling outside the door and the unmistakable sound of an omni-tool attempting to override his security locks. He then heard one shot from a shotgun, and a round from an assault rifle. It seemed the N7 had made it in safely, and had even bothered to take out the two gnats who had been trying to get in.

–

Shepard knew she had very little time to waste, as she knew one of the freelancers ahead of her group had radioed back to base to inform the mercenary groups that traitors had made it into Archangel's base of operation. As she lowered her shotgun to begin manually overriding Archangel's security lock, she briefly paused to admire his technological handiwork. He had incorporated several complex algorithms that shared only three nodes of convergence. One wrong input and they would be locked out for good; no second chances. It would require equal parts finesse and patience.

The locking algorithms consisted of complicated circuitry, which was controlled by several upper-level codes, which in turn fed into a proprietary, for which the three inputs had to be precise and within a certain time frame of each other. Fortunately, her omni-tool was suitably equipped for such complex algorithms as she continued to work on the override.

Shepard had realized, by the time she took her first shot on the bridge, that Archangel had indeed noted her target. There was no other reason why they were able to make it across the bridge safely. Well, relatively safely, anyway. It seemed Archangel was either unsure, or just had a wicked sense of humor; while he hadn't sent anything lethal her way, he had certainly whittled her shields down to 50%, and Mordin and Zaeed's to 75% with what seemed like concussive rounds, and then switched to take out targets behind them. Whatever his intentions, the sudden reduction in her shielding had quickened her pace considerably. _Ah,_ she suddenly realized, _perhaps that's what he was getting at. _

At last she heard the slight whisper as the heavy metal doors slid open quietly. Shepard surveyed the room; it seemed to be on the verge of collapsing into itself at any moment, and on the far end, near where they stood, a grenade or a missile looked to have found its place in what used to be a bunk. As they inched in with their weapons drawn, Shepard spied a ledge that was facing the mercenary barricade across the bridge. And behind that ledge, stood—

"Archangel?"

He lifted a single talon to indicate that he wasn't finished, as he carefully took aim of a freelancer, who poked his head out behind a pillar at a most inopportune time. Shepard took the brief pause to examine the turian. He was of average height for one of his species, but that was all she could gather. He was armored from head to toe, including a helmet that hid his face from view. Shepard had lifted the protective plating from her helmet when they entered the room to be able to examine the room and the subject of her intrigue. Besides, if he wanted to shoot her in the head, having a sniper rifle at point-blank range was next to useless.

_That voice_. She hadn't said enough for him to accurately register her voice through his translator, but one word was enough for his gut to tell him that there was something familiar about it. Something...he couldn't quite place his proverbial finger on. As Garrus turned around to face the voice that had called him, something in his mind snapped and he froze. That face, he knew that face; he knew those eyes. He slowly removed his helmet, each centimeter of movement steeling him into slowly masking his shock bit by bit, until the helmet was off and his face was schooled into that of calm indifference and a hint of fatigue. He sat down, his legs aching for respite, and his mind racing. When his mind had finally processed the figure standing in front of him, it frustratingly left no words for him, except—

"Shepard." he sighed, "I thought you were dead." _You died, and everything, everyone, fell apart without you!_

_Garrus_. It was Garrus; the ex C-Sec officer and hero of the Citadel who was considering defying his father's wishes and going up for Spectre re-candidacy. And he was _here,_ in a miserable piss hole, where waking up every day was a blessing in and of itself. Why?

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too," he replied.

"I'm just surprised to see you." _Here_,were the unspoken words heard by both.

"You and me both. Still, it's good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work. Especially on my own."

There was definitely fatigue in his words, and reflected as much by his eyes, which had lost the twinkling, almost hawk-like gaze it once had. She remembered it well; the sharpness was there after his conversation with Executor Pallin, her first encounter with the turian C-Sec officer. His eyes had a certain quality to them that made it seem as though nothing escaped their sights. There had been a clarity and penetrating aspect to them that had left Shepard with quite an impression of the officer. But as she looked now, all of that was gone, only to be replaced by a dull, tired gaze that seemed to be seeing nothing. _What had happened to him?_

Both Shepard and Garrus knew inherently that this reunion was long-deserved. However, they were also soldiers who knew that fighting their way out would be a most difficult undertaking, and that time was not on their side tonight. If they wanted to make this reunion count, they would both have to make it out alive.

"Well, we got here, but I don't think getting out will be as easy." she voiced what the both of them were silently thinking.

"No, it won't," he replied. "That bridge has saved my life...funneling all those witless idiots into scope. But it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way." He paused. "But it's not all that bad. This place has held them off so far. And with the three of you..." he trailed off, giving a little thought into their next move. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defenses, and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan."

"If we fight as a team, we'll hold them off." Shepard replied with renewed vigor.

Garrus knew that tone well. It was the tone she took to bolster morale in her teammates when she knew the odds were not in their favor. There was also something in the tone to suggest that most of it was directed towards him. Part of him slowly started waking up; perhaps he _would _get out of this hell-hole alive. With Shepard, he knew the possibility was a likely one.

"You're right. Their numbers won't help them in here, anyway. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point. You..." he paused, "you can do what you do best." he took a deep breath, "Just like old times, Shepard."

Shepard heard it, the distinct change in his voice. It was a spark of life, along with something more. Excitement, perhaps? He was no longer the Garrus she had encountered a few moments ago; _this _was the Garrus she remembered from their days on the SR-1. She offered him a slightly knowing and encouraging smirk before unholstering her beloved shotgun and heading back downstairs.

In-between the waves of mercenaries and mechs, Shepard took the time to appreciate Garrus' superb aim. _Had he always been this sharp before?_ she thought to herself, _no, definitely not_. He initially joined her team with both military and officer training, which meant most of his firearm experience focused on short- to medium-range combat with assault rifles and pistols, and very little with sniper rifles. However, throughout the course of their missions together, Garrus had developed a strange fascination for sniping, and had adapted quickly to his new style of combat. He was getting used to the recoil of the sniper rifle, and slowly learning how to steady his hand when scoping out a target for a quick kill. He had taken a little longer to develop the absolute precision and steadiness to execute a shot to the head, but he had nonetheless mastered that particular skill in record time as well. However, none of that compared to his technique now. Now his aim was brutal and efficient; unforgiving and lethally precise. Shepard wondered exactly how long he had been on Omega, and to what extent his vigilantism had stretched.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Garrus' voice in her comm:

"Shepard, Eclipse mercs have made it into the base."

So they would be taking out the Eclipse first. She desperately hoped Jaroth would show his unwelcome little head. Taking out at least the leader of the group would serve a dual purpose—as a threat, and as a morale reducer. As Garrus and her team fought off yet another wave of Eclipse mercs, she heard Jaroth call to Garrus, "All right, let's see how you handle _this_, Archangel." With that, she watched as he brought out the heavy mech she had tinkered with, a slow smile creeping up on her face.

"Damn it." Garrus cursed, "They're sending out the heavy mechs."

With the slightest hint of amusement, Shepard answered, "That problem should take care of itself."

Garrus watched, gaze transfixed, as the heavy mech began to attack any moving thing in its vicinity. _I expected nothing less, Shepard_, he thought to himself, as he and the scarred human male named Zaeed aided the YMRI in taking out hostile targets from their vantage point. When the remaining Eclipse mercs and the heavy mech succeeded in killing each other off, Shepard saw Jaroth climb over the barricade with his personal guards. _Oh, this should be interesting,_ she thought, as she and Mordin made their way over to greet them.

–

With two more prominent mercenary groups left, Shepard knew now was not the most opportune time for them to try and get out. They would have a little more fighting to do before their chance at escape was even remotely possible. As she was mulling over their next plan of action, she felt a lurch of the floor and heard the sound of an alarm going off somewhere in the distance. _Great_, she thought, _we get this far and the room decides to collapse on us _now_. _

"What the hell was that?"

"Damn it. They've breached the lower level." Garrus answered. "Well, they had to use their brains eventually. You'd better get down there, Shepard. I'll keep the bridge clear."

"Let's split up, two and two."

"You sure? Who knows what's down there?"

Shepard looked to Mordin, "Mordin, I'm putting you in charge of getting those shutters in the basement closed. Zaeed, you're going to give him cover. I want radio silence except situation reports. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Roger that."

With that, the two of them headed downstairs, towards the basement. Mordin's tech skills were far superior to her own, and Zaeed and his assault rifle would be able to give Mordin enough cover—or at least more cover than she and her shotgun would be able to give.

As Shepard and Garrus looked to the bridge, it seemed most of the mercs charging down the bridge were now part of Blood Pack. The repulsive heads and sniveling of the vorcha were unmistakable, and the huge shadows cast by the krogan were unmatched in size by any other two-legged species. Their regenerative abilities proved to be a little more difficult to deal with, although Garrus was taking them out with relative ease—'one-shot, one-kill,' he had said with a smug look.

"Garrus, what the hell are you doing out here on Omega?" she asked through their old comm channel.

"I got fed up with the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel." he replied. _Crap, indeed. _"Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot." _Well, that answers why he's on Omega, but that doesn't really explain the look he had on his face before. _"What about you, Shepard? What brings you out to this sunny neighborhood?"

"Came to recruit Archangel for a dangerous suicide mission."

He chuckled, "I see you haven't changed a bit. Suicide missions still give you a thrill, huh?"

"Not my choice; I was dead, didn't have to worry about saving the galaxy. Then _Cerberus_ thought it'd be a brilliant idea to bring me back to save humanity again." She replied scornfully.

"Cerberus..." he said quietly, "I see."

They had to pause their exchange, for there was another wave of Blood Pack mercenaries incoming, this one much stronger than the last. It seemed that even the vorcha, with their infinite regenerative abilities, still chose to wear armor to further infuriate their aggressors.

"Garrus, how'd you manage to piss off every merc organization in the Terminus Systems?" She asked in-between waves.

"It wasn't easy...I _really_ had to work at it." he paused to take another shot. "Frankly, I'm amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must really hate me." _Hah, no kidding._

"You know, you nailed me good a couple times by the way. Though it seemed like concussive rounds, am I right?"

"Yep, concussive rounds only. No _real_ harm done. Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious." He said with barely concealed glee in his voice. Clearly, he was enjoying the fact that he had shot his ex-Commanding Officer enough to shake her up a bit.

"Uh-huh..."

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it." he retorted. "Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I had to get you _moving_." _Ah._

It was strange, conversing with Garrus again. She hadn't expected to be speaking with any of her former crew mates again. Though hind-sight being twenty-twenty, she figured that the similarities had been there—pursuing criminals in the most crime-ridden station in the Terminus Systems; pissing off the mercs; the tactical skills of a genius. She had been ready to solemnly accept the task that had been handed to her and get it done, no matter the cost. Finding Garrus had been an uplifting surprise.

"You know, it's really good to see you again, Garrus." She chuckled, "or should I say, Archangel?"

"It's just a name the locals gave me. For all my good deeds." He coughed, "I don't mind it, but please...it's just 'Garrus' to you."

She smiled at that; it was good to see he hadn't lost his humor entirely, though something in his countenance showed that he _was_ different from the Garrus she had known before. He had changed, and Shepard couldn't put her finger on _why_ or _how_. She made a mental note to catch up with him when they were both settled on the Normandy. For now, they both had a job to do.

"Mordin," she called into her comm, "Give me a status report."

"Heavy Blood Pack resistance, attempting to close last shutter."

She then heard Zaeed: "I wouldn't be surprised if the goddamned vorcha were breeding in combat, with these numbers."

She held back a most ungraceful snort and replied, "Get that last shutter closed ASAP. Make your way back up here when you're done; we're taking heavy fire."

Shepard had just released a slug into a stunned vorcha, when she heard—

"Enemy charging! Argh, Garm's got me pinned down."

_Garrus_, she thought with a jolt. A krogan with a firearm was bad enough; a _charging_ krogan with a firearm was absolutely lethal. Those bastards packed a punch. _How had Garm managed to pass her? _She was on the lower level and was certain that anyone who tried going up the rear stairs would be in her sights. _Oh, _she realized, _he must have used the vorcha as cover to make his way up. Damn it. _

For the first time since she entered his base, Shepard felt a shock of panic as she heard the gunshots from upstairs. If Garrus had been at his sniping post, it meant he hadn't seen Garm when he entered the base. Which, in turn, meant that if Garm had gotten past her without her knowing, Garrus sure as hell had no warning to his arrival; Garm had taken Garrus by surprise. Garrus would've had his sniper rifle out, but in close-range combat, it was quite possibly the most useless weapon unless he intended to use it as a club. Shepard had seen an assault rifle holstered to Garrus' back, but would he have had enough time to take it out?

As she looked around, she saw that there were more than a few vorcha still scattered in the room. She realized with a desperately sinking feeling that she would never have enough time to take out the remaining vorcha here and make it to Garrus in time. She would have to hope that Garrus' tactical skills would keep him alive long enough for her to—

"Commander! Shutters closed, Blood Pack presence in basement eliminated. Will take care of remaining threat here, go help Garrus."

_Mordin!_ Relief flooded her veins as her mind registered what he was saying. The next thing she knew, both he and Zaeed were giving her cover fire as she bolted up the stairs to where Garrus was. As she entered the room, there was no sign of Garrus, and Garm was on the far side of the room, unaware of her arrival. There was no time to think as she acted on pure instinct—she charged at the krogan, ready to put as many slugs into his head as was needed for him to never move again. If Garrus was down, then her main priority was to eliminate the most pressing threat—Garm. If Garrus was just taking cover to release some medi-gel into his system, then this would buy him enough time. Either way, Shepard had charged, taking the krogan by surprise; she saw a flash of blue and the distinct reflection of a sniper rifle. At the last second, Shepard threw herself on to the ground backwards, as she slid away from Garm, firing her weapon and giving Garrus enough time and room to take his shot. She didn't have to wait long, as she heard the muffled shot find its mark, eliciting a surprised grunt from the krogan as he fell.

As he got up to stand from his cover, Shepard realized that his breathing was considerably more ragged than before. "Garrus, are you alright?"

He coughed, "Yeah...Garm got me right in the chest with his charge. Bastard packs a punch, damned freak of nature." She smiled. "Thanks, Shepard. And we got his Blood Pack, too. This day just gets better and better." He coughed again.

"Only the Blue Suns left. I say we take our chances and fight our way out."

"I think you're right. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before." Garrus answered. "Besides, he won't be expecting us to meet him head-on—"

An impossibly loud engine interrupted his words, as they saw the gunship flying outside the window to their right.

"Get your head down!" yelled Zaeed, as he took cover from the blasts.

"Damn it!" Garrus yelled, "I thought I took that thing out already!"

"They fixed it, but not completely. I made sure of that." Shepard yelled back.

"They're off-loading troops. Watch your back, Shepard!" she heard Garrus say before they turned their focus towards the advancing mercenaries.

Tarak's men were more resilient and better fighters than those they had faced before; they were dropped off upstairs and rappelled down the side wall. Once again, Shepard and Mordin made their way downstairs to relieve the pressure from at least one angle. Their numbers were seemingly infinite, though; they swarmed them at every available opening, and Shepard's body was quickly reaching that moment of fatigue where no amount of adrenaline or stimulants would be able to hold it off. She was _tired_; it seemed they had been fighting for hours, with virtually no end in sight. Their only saving grace—if they had one at all—was that with the Blood Pack and Eclipse gone, the Blue Suns were on their own. But what if that wasn't enough? What if, despite appearances, Tarak had managed to get the gunship fixed? What if—

"Archangel! You think you can screw with the Blue Suns!"

_Garrus!_ Her mind froze at the sound of gunfire and missiles upstairs. _Had they fixed it, then?_ As important as it was to finish off the last few legionnaires in the room, Shepard's mind was no longer functioning on careful premeditation and action; _instinct_ told her to get to Garrus as soon as possible, for the chances of something happening to him were close to 100%. _Instinct_ told her to break cover and make a run for the stairs. _Instinct _told her to hold back her scream when she found Garrus lying on the floor, in a puddle of dark royal indigo blood that showed no sign of stopping. Instinct be damned, her actions were now spurred on by pure fury and the missiles from her launcher now flew towards the damnable gunship, guided by a rage whose reigns had snapped long ago.

"_Garrus!"_

She did not scream, did not panic; the one word that escaped her parched lips held within it all the terror and exhaustion she had forced to keep hidden until now.

"We're getting you out of here, Garrus! Just hold on..." She turned to Mordin, "Radio Joker, make sure they're ready for us."

Amidst all the noise and shouting, Garrus' last memory of Omega, the crime-ridden piss-hole he had somehow gotten himself on, was a rough male voice:

"He's not going to make it."

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**Author's Note:**

The length of this chapter reflects the necessity to stretch out this mission, because I felt that in order to really feel the grind and fatigue of fighting off all those mercs and then having to deal with Garrus and his getting shot in the face with a missile, there needed to be some heavy exposition and some re-telling. You'll notice, however, that I took a lot of liberties in the mission itself (closing shutters) and Garrus and Shepard's conversation. I did this in order to make everything flow a little smoother.

Also, Shepard's initial reaction to Archangel being Garrus was meant to sound...almost unemotional and much more subdued. My logic is that Shepard has been dead for two years--she has no recollection of _being_ dead, nor is she able to fully understand the passing of two long years. So in essence, the last time she saw Garrus _in her mind_, was a much shorter time than two years--perhaps a week? A month?

So there is the long-awaited first interaction between Garrus and Shepard. I think writing the story up to this point was the hardest part--especially allowing the readers to become comfortable with the two characters and the initial development of their personalities. From here on out, I think the pace will pick up a bit, though not enough to gloss over crucial details.

I hope you all enjoyed it; _please_ take some time to leave some feedback as to how you felt this chapter was done and possible points for improvement. I'm particularly happy with this chapter (after several edits), and I'm _really_ curious as to what you guys thought! I'm working on Chapter 5 now, and plotting, er...I mean planning Chapter 6 in my evil little mind.

Thanks again, and happy reading! :)


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish Mass Effect and its inherent and affiliated characters were mine, they are not. Therefore, all praise and adoration go to Bioware and their affiliates. Boo-hoo.

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Chapter 5**_

He coughed.

As soon as the breath escaped from his mouth, he felt a sharp pain shoot through the entire right side of his face; his body ached in places he never knew existed. And his chest...why was it so hard to breathe? _Where am I?_

She heard him cough and immediately rose from her desk, where she was reviewing his medical records and various other bits of data files. She went over to check on her lone patient; vital signs seemed to be settling in at a normal range, and it seemed he had gained full control of his facial nerves and muscles, if the wince was any telling. He slowly opened his eyes, allowing them to get used to the brightness of the room.

"Doc—" he coughed again, "Doctor...Chakwas?"

She smiled, "Glad to see you're awake, Garrus. How do you feel?"

"Like I got charged by an enraged krogan," he croaked out, his voice unused for several hours now.

"Hm, well I suppose that's not _too_ far from the truth. How is your face?" she asked.

"I—" He winced again at the reminder of how painful it was. "...ouch. I can't really feel the right side, but I think that's just the pain blocking it out."

"Good to hear," she said with a smile. "You're actually awake and healing much faster than I had expected. I had thought you'd be out for several days, really, judging by your wounds."

At that, memories came flooding back to him in a blur—Omega, he had been on Omega, taking out mercs with—

"Doctor Chakwas, did Shepard bring me here? Where is _here_, exactly?"

"Yes, the Commander was the one who brought you in, along with Massani and Mordin. You're on the Normandy. Well, not _the_ Normandy, as you may well remember; you're on the Normandy SR-2." she answered patiently. She knew he would be suffering from some mild to moderate disorientation after the blow he received to his head and the resulting blood loss.

"Oh." he answered. "And Shepard? Where is she now? What happened?"

"Well, I'm sure that the Commander herself would be able to fill you in on that better than I; I'm just a doctor who fixes soldiers." she replied with a wistful smile. "Commander Shepard is in the debriefing room on the level just above ours. When you get out of the lift, go either left or right to go through Mordin's lab or the Armory; it'll be the door in the middle. You're fit for duty, Garrus, but—" she paused. "Do guard your face next time. Anymore grafting or cybernetics and you'll be well on your way to looking like a krogan."

If a turian's facial blood flow were as versatile as a human's, his face would have done what humans called 'blanching.'

"I...uh...thanks, Doc." With that, he gingerly climbed off the bed to put his armor back on which, he noticed, had taken some heavy damage; a chunk of the collar had been blasted off. When he was almost done, he realized something:

"Doc, how did you manage to work around the visor?"

She looked up from her desk. "Hm? Oh, that; it wasn't very difficult, since most of the damage was on your right side. When we tried to remove it, we saw that it was...secured to your lower fringe, so we just let it be. Although I'm a bit curious—exactly what does that visor do?"

"Oh," he chuckled, "I suppose the only person who really knows about it is Shepard. It has several functions, actually. It _is_ a visor, in the sense that it gives me readings and information on whatever I'm looking at. But it also functions as a type of...electromagnetic corrective lens, as well. My left eye is incapable of differentiating between colors and lighting, and its singular depth perception is very much skewed from my right eye. The visor helps to correct the differences so that I'm not walking off ledges or running into walls. It also provides me with the ability to see color and lighting very distinctly." _Perhaps too much so_, he thought, as he remembered the horrid green.

"There are no implants or genetic alterations to fix it?"

"Implants, no; something about turian optic nerves being difficult to work with. As for genetic alterations, I don't have the credits, and the results aren't guaranteed. Besides, I've grown quite accustomed to this little guy," he replied, as he gently tapped his visor. "Anyway, I should be heading out to let Shepard know I haven't, er...died," he coughed nervously. "Thanks again, Doc."

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, Garrus," she said ominously as a way of farewell.

As Garrus got off the lift, he took a left to go through the Armory and perhaps glance over what kinds of ordnance this vessel was packing. He took not two steps when suddenly a voice cried out,

"Officer Vakarian!"

_Officer_ Vakarian? Since when had he been called officer of anything? The title seemed to resurface old memories of his days at C-Sec. He looked over to the source of the voice—a human female, slightly taller than average, with a fiery red head of hair and bright green eyes. She seemed to be beckoning him over. _Great,_ he thought, _will everything stop me from getting to that damned debriefing room?_ She spoke:

"Officer Vakarian! Or should I say, Archangel? It's so nice to finally meet the tactical genius behind the Omega vigilante. I must say, I really appreciate your passion for pursuing justice in every corner of the galaxy, it's—"

"—and you are?" Garrus cut her off, genuinely curious at who this human was, and how she knew so much about him.

"Yeoman Kelly Chambers, administrative assistant to Commander Shepard." she finished with pride in her voice. "I've read your files, Officer Vakarian—hero of the Citadel, ex C-Sec officer, and one of Executor Pallin's top investigators on the Citadel—and now Archangel!"

Garrus groaned inwardly at the use of his short-lived alias. He didn't bother correcting Chambers' use of it, though, unlike he had done with Shepard. This woman seemed to be exacerbating the pounding in his head without knowing it, and slowly stretching his patience out more than he was comfortable with. He wanted the conversation to be over. Good hell, the woman was _still_ talking. He interrupted her again, this time with intent.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Yeoman. I was actually on my way to let Shepard know I hadn't died, when you called me over. So if you'll excuse me..."

He didn't bother to look back at the Yeoman as he quickly took his leave, missing the unequivocally calculating look she gave to his departure.

"Tough son of a bitch. Didn't think he'd be up yet." was the greeting he received as he came upon the debriefing room. There was definitely a thinly veiled expression of shock on Shepard's face at seeing him. He knew Chakwas was skilled, but had she been unable to graft his facial plates properly?

"Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?" He asked, strolling in.

"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on there, and no one will even notice," she playfully chided.

He chuckled at that, and then promptly winced, "Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is. _Some_ women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan..."

From across the room, Garrus heard a distinct male voice interrupt their exchange. "I'll let you two catch up; I have to make sure the rifles' scopes and barrels are ready for use before our next mission." He looked over to Shepard, "Commander?"

"Dismissed, Jacob," she said as she nodded him out the door.

Garrus turned to her, "Frankly, I'm more worried about you. Cerberus, Shepard? You do remember those experiments they were doing?"

"Right now, they're a necessary evil," she responded. "I need their resources to get this done. Besides," she paused with a smile, "if I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side. That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus."

"I trust your judgment, Shepard, but...you realize this plan has me walking into hell, too." He chuckled, "Just like old times."

She smiled, and Garrus took that moment to carefully scrutinize her face. There were some facial scars—probably the end result of whatever Cerberus did to bring her back. But there was also something else that he couldn't quite identify. She was the same Shepard he had known, but...something about her was different; something...darker, more serious was etched into her person.

"How are _you_ doing, Shepard? It has definitely been a while. Something is different about you."

"Well, I suppose being brought back from the dead will change anybody," she responded with veiled lightness. "Although I'm sure it's been longer for you than for me; I still can't really wrap my head around the fact that I was dead for two whole years. It's...difficult to gauge time for me after that, since it feels like the destruction of the old Normandy was just a week ago." She paused briefly, hesitating over her next words, "Garrus, what the hell were you doing on Omega? And I don't mean using mercs as target practice. What brought you _there_, of all places?"

"I..." he trailed off, "I...let my emotions get in the way of thinking. After you died— "he paused, then resumed, "After you died, things changed quickly and drastically. If you've spoken to the Council, then I'm sure you're aware how. But...the speed at which the Council covered up everything made it seem like they were waiting for an excuse to do it. Almost as if...they were waiting for you die so that they could finally indulge their fear and ignorance by writing the Reapers off as a myth and scary bedtime story. It was too much for the old crew to handle." He took a moment to recollect his thoughts and think back to what had happened.

"They grounded Joker, as I'm sure he probably told you; Wrex went back to his home planet to try and restore peace and unification for his people; Dr. T'Soni...disappeared, fell off the grid, only to resurface later as some "information broker" somewhere. Gunnery Chief Williams took your death hard; she left without saying a word as soon as she heard the news, and threw herself into her work with the Alliance. Tali had no choice but to make her way back to the Migrant Fleet; they had given her leave for her Pilgrimage and your mission, but she was obligated to return and report back her findings about the geth..." he trailed off.

"And you?" Shepard asked quietly. "What happened to you?" It was a loaded question, and Shepard was well aware of it.

"As I mentioned on Omega, I got fed up with the Council, the Alliance, C-Sec...basically everything and everyone in Citadel space. I declined the position C-Sec offered me, recruited a team of operatives, and made my way to Omega to fight bad guys and make a difference. People needed someone to believe in. Someone to stand up to the local thugs. I taught my team how to kick back at the thugs who were kicking the helpless," he said ruefully. "Fat lot of good that did."

_There_. She saw it again; that same look he had when she had first encountered him. It was guilt, masked by a barely contained rage that belied his usually peaceful demeanor. _So he has changed_, Shepard thought to herself. She steeled herself to ask the next question, knowing that it would be a difficult one for him to face:

"What happened to them? Your team." As she predicted, his anger surfaced ever so slightly; enough to give away his underlying thirst for revenge. It wasn't an easy sight to behold.

"They died. No, they were killed...by a traitor. It was my own damn fault. One of my people betrayed me." He began pacing angrily, "A turian named Sidonis. He drew me away right before the mercs attacked my squad. Then he disappeared."

"How did he draw you away?"

"He asked me for help on a job. When I got to the meeting point, nobody was there. By the time I got back to our hideout, the mercs had killed all but two of my squad. And they didn't last long. Everyone is dead except me because of _him_. And because I didn't see it coming."

"Do you know where Sidonis is now?"

"No, his trail vanishes after he leaves Omega. I lost my whole team because of Sidonis. And one day, I'm going to correct that. I'll keep hunting." _Hunting_. The word rang in her mind like a bell chime. He spoke as a predator, with seemingly no recollection of everything she had taught him during their days hunting down Saren and stopping Sovereign.

After a pause, Shepard spoke up again, "Garrus, remember Dr. Saleon?

"Yeah, how can I forget? What about him, though? What's that got anything to do with the death of my squad, Shepard?"

"Do you remember asking me what the point of arresting Dr. Saleon was, when we had to end up killing him anyway?"

"Yeah..."

"I'll tell you again what I told you then: You can't predict how people will act. But you _can_ control how you'll respond. In the end, that's what really matters." she paused. "That seemed to resonate with you somewhat back then. I hope it does now, too."

Garrus had no words to say to her, and all he could do was nod his understanding. He didn't think...surely he wasn't as hot-headed and brash as he was back then...?

"Come on, I'm sure you're itching to take a look at the Normandy's new weapon systems and upgrades. I'll walk you to the forward batteries."

They left the debriefing room and walked towards the elevator in companionable silence. Their reunion left Garrus feeling slightly uneasy about his time spent on Omega. Being near Shepard was akin to being attached to an anchor, never having to fear that his actions would get swept away by his emotions. But somehow, he felt as though there was a battle waging in the dark recesses in his mind—his urge to kill Sidonis and avenge his squad, trying desperately to extinguish the calm rationale that Shepard had offered him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

As always, thank you for your feedback; it's encouraging to hear what people think. Don't be shy! :)

Chapter 6 is on its way!

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I think it shows a little bit more of who Garrus and Shepard are as individuals, and as a team.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Bioware...*mumble*...Mass Effect...*mumble*...not mine...*mumble*...

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_**Chapter 6**_

"_You can't predict how people will act. But you_ can _control how you'll respond. In the end, that's what really matters."_

Their last conversation left Garrus feeling a bit unsettled. As he spent time re-calibrating the Normandy's new weapon systems, his mind wandered back to what she had said. Her expression had told him more than her words did at the time. It spoke of mild disappointment and a slight wariness that made Garrus feel uncomfortable—especially because he knew the wariness was of him.

He remembered the horror of realization when the worker he had been interrogating started bleeding profusely from places unknown, and the sheer terror on his face when Garrus had asked him for information on Dr. Saleon's experiments and whereabouts. Such unadulterated fear was something Garrus had never come across during his many C-Sec investigations; it only served to strengthen his determination to find and eliminate the salarian geneticist once and for all. But when had that determination turned into a vendetta? When did he start believing that killing a criminal was upholding justice, over arresting? Hadn't he been imbued with an unquestionable sense of honor since childhood? Had his intentions been honorable? What Shepard had recounted to him in the debriefing room, he couldn't get out of his mind.

_Sidonis_. The name rang clear in his head, almost as if to stop his thoughts from wandering into the reason-infused realm of his mind. He would never forget the message he received from Sidonis on that fateful day.

_'Garrus, I got a lead on that merc leader who was smuggling tainted eezo into Citadel space and need your help. Meet me at the loading docks behind the back entrance to _Afterlife _in 20 minutes and I'll give you the full rundown. -Sidonis'_

The message had been rather cryptic and strange in more ways than one. For starters, Sidonis had very few contacts that could've gotten information that sensitive. Secondly, he hadn't used their regular meeting point, and instead chose a rather public spot for a rundown of information. In retrospect, Garrus should have seen the red flags everywhere. But at the time he had trusted Sidonis, and figured that this particular cache of information needed a deviation from the norm.

_Garrus made his way to the loading docks with three minutes to spare. Tardiness was something he rarely tolerated, and he knew that Sidonis knew that as well; anything could happen in a few short minutes, and Garrus never took any chances. With two minutes left to their meeting time, Garrus felt a slight shiver going down his spine—Sidonis was never late. When he heard a slight scuffling behind some crates with one minute to go, a cold chill settled in his stomach—Sidonis wasn't going to show. The mercs that appeared moments later were a testament to that horrifying realization. He patched himself into the secured frequency his team used, "Garrus here, does anyone copy?" Silence. It was all the evidence he needed to launch himself at the mercs approaching his location._

_The bloody pile that was left of the merc group was quickly growing smaller in the distance, as Garrus willed his body to get back to their hideout, rage serving as one hell of an anesthetic for his wounds. He heard the gunfire as he approached their base of operations, and as he quickly made his way towards the noise, he saw the long-dead corpses of some of his squad mates. _Later,_ he told himself, _I'll get to them later._ He entered the cargo hold on the lower floor and saw the mercs—about seven of them—slowly closing in on—_

"_Seamus!" he yelled, cover be damned, as he drew the mercs' attention away from his comrade. _

_At the sight of Garrus, fully armed, armored, and eyes blazing with rage, two of the mercs ran until Garrus took their legs out with a grenade. The other five were slowly advancing on him, as he unholstered his assault rifle before spraying the slugs, caring very little for their destination, as long as they hit the mercs _somewhere._ They were very persistent, however, and Garrus found himself very quickly outnumbered by the mercs, relieved that their full attention was on him now; if he were to die, he would die knowing that he had tried to save at least one of his team mates. _No! _his mind cried, _you can't die, not while knowing that Sidonis lives after betraying you and your team! _Garrus froze, as the realization began to sink in that he had been betrayed by one one of his men. Fury was the catalyst, as Garrus leaped out of cover once more to take down—no, _murder—_the ones who had benefited from Sidonis' betrayal. _

_Viscerally satisfied with the carnage he had left, Garrus quickly made his way to where he had spotted Seamus earlier. The body of Taleon, the salarian explosives expert lay in Seamus' lap, as he numbly looked up at hearing someone approach._

"_Garrus," he croaked, "I—we're—sorry, we...didn't know, didn't hear them...until too late..." he slowly trailed off as his consciousness wavered in and out. Garrus was about to respond, when he spotted a dark pool quickly forming under Seamus and realized that he had taken a bad hit from one of the mercs' shotgun._

"_Seamus!" he yelled, "Seamus, stay with me! You're badly wounded and I'm going to try and stop the bleeding with some medi-gel until we can get you to the clinic. Seamus, do you hear me?" he cried, as he saw him slowly slipping away. "Seamus!"_

"_T-tell...Nahla...I...lov—..." he breathed as his eyes rolled up in his now blood-drained face._

"_Seamus..." Garrus softly trailed off, as he slowly made to close the eyelids of his second-in-command and close friend._

That had been his entire team; his sole reason for being on Omega, fighting injustice every which way he turned. He had lost his entire team to the betrayal of one, unremarkable coward. One coward, whose death would never atone for the undeserved deaths of ten, but would at least serve to quiet the demon of rage that grew in his mind. He would never allow Sidonis to escape unscathed or alive if he saw him now. He would forgo his sniper rifle and would beat the cowardly bastard into the bloody pulp that he deserved to be. He would—

"Garrus?"

He could almost hear his rage groaning inwardly, as her voice pierced a ray of clarity through his mind.

"Shepard," he acknowledged. "Need me for something?"

"Not really, just felt like talking. Have a few minutes?" she asked innocently, not knowing the thoughts she had just interrupted, completely oblivious to where they would have led him.

"I'm actually in the middle of some calibrations. Can it wait?"

"Oh...sure. I'll let you work. Talk to you later, Garrus," she said, as she left the main battery hold.

_Shepard_, his mind drifted back. Shepard had steered him in a direction of mercy when they had encountered Dr. Saleon, something he thought he would never be capable of. She had taught him the meaning of careful consideration, when faced with the choice of murder versus arrest. And she had shown him, in her own way, that doing the _right_ thing did not necessarily mean doing the _good_ thing, but doing the _wrong_ thing was almost always doing the _bad_ thing. It was a concept he had difficulty grasping at first, but understood after Shepard's death. Somewhere in the back of his dark mind, however, he knew that should Shepard get in the way of his revenge, be it physically or verbally, Garrus would hesitate not a second before taking her out, if he knew Sidonis' death followed shortly aft—

_What was he thinking?!_

He had just somehow admitted to himself that he was willing to kill—_murder—_his commanding officer, if she got in his way. What was happening to him? This was Shepard—_Shepard—_of all people. Shepard—his mentor, his Commander, his...friend. He was willing to kill in cold blood, just to exact revenge on one coward. This wasn't him; this wasn't Garrus. He didn't know _who_ it was, but he knew it wasn't who he wanted to be. And yet, those were _his_ thoughts and emotions.

He needed to talk to someone; he needed to get this off his mind so that he would be able to throw himself into this suicide mission with a clear head. He needed to talk to Shepard. But no, he couldn't possibly face Shepard now, not after what he had thought towards her not a moment ago...he simply couldn't—_wouldn't—_bring himself to look his mentor in the eye and tell her that all of their talks and her teachings had done absolutely nothing to change him. Frustrated with himself and his thoughts, Garrus threw himself into calibrating and re-optimizing firing algorithms for the new Thanix cannons.

–

Shepard had left the main battery hold a little disheartened; she was hoping to let Garrus know that she had meant no harm by her words in the debriefing room. When she tapped the haptic interface that would allow her entry into the main battery, she had been slightly startled by the expression on Garrus' face. He seemed to be lost in thought, but with a savage look on his face. He had given no acknowledgment of her presence, which probably meant that he was reliving something whose memory was still clear in his mind. As curious as she was about which memory he was reliving, the accompanying expression on his face had sent a chill down her spine, and she wanted it gone as soon as possible. So she had called out to him, hoping to snap him out of his reverie. It had worked, but only to the extent that his expression was now masked, not gone. His eyes had softened a little when he realized the interruption was from her, but they still had a haunted look to them—something very reminiscent of Omega.

She had let him be, when he indicated that a friendly chat was not something he wished to indulge in at the moment—which explained her presence on the CIC, half-heartedly sending probes down to various planets, hoping that they would retrieve necessary resources for the ship.

"Commander," Kelly called to her right, "you look a bit distracted. Everything alright?"

"You'd look distracted too, Kelly, if you had the glorious job of mining for resources via probes." Shepard answered evasively. While the yeoman was a pleasant enough girl to be around, her "unofficial" job as resident psychiatrist made Shepard very cautious around her. Shepard was exhaustingly analytical of herself as it was; she didn't need a Cerberus lackey to serve as a second opinion.

Kelly gave a snort and turned back to her terminal, "Whatever you say, Commander." This allowed Shepard to return to her musings about Garrus.

During their days on the old Normandy, Garrus and Wrex had been with her more often than not for missions; Garrus made up for Shepard's lack in long-range combat weapon specialization, and Wrex had complemented the other two perfectly, with his battle-hardened personality and unwavering trigger finger. Compared to herself and Wrex, Garrus would have been but a novice, were it not for his quickly developing skills as a sniper. Shepard had purposely invested much of her time into conversations with him, in order to develop in him a sense of morality that would serve him well in his line of work.

He had seemed a little too excited at the prospect of hunting Saren with a Spectre when she invited him onto the crew—especially the fact that Spectres were above the law. _"Fighting a rogue Spectre with countless lives at stake and no regulations to get in the way? I'd say that beats C-Sec," _he had said. She had been quick to correct his misconceptions about traveling with _her_, however, which had surprised him.

Even as a Spectre, Shepard did not consider herself above the law. There was a relieving lack of red tape, of course, but her choices still had consequences; they only served as a reminder that her actions were _more_ carefully scrutinized _because_ she was the first human Spectre. The Garrus she met on Omega, and the Garrus she had seen just moments ago, were most definitely not the Garrus she had known prior to her death. This Garrus seemed to have only the desire to kill criminals, as opposed to bringing them to justice. In his mind, he saw murder _as_ justice, and it worried her that he saw it that way—especially in light of what had happened with Sidonis. Garrus had indeed changed, and Shepard intended to see to it that he didn't become anymore depraved; she would be his anchor and support, even if he didn't realize it. She didn't know how much more of his haunted look she would be able to handle before she herself fell into despair.

She carefully skimmed over the remaining dossiers from the file that the Illusive Man had sent. He informed her during their last debriefing, that he was still compiling lists of more members for her to recruit. So far, his delegates had not disappointed her, but her caution remained, as long as her tentative alliance with Cerberus held in tact. But for now, she would not dwell on it; she had a job to do. _And a rather intriguing one at that, _she thought with a smirk, as she looked over the next name on the dossier.

"Joker?" she called out to the CIC intercom.

"Commander?" he called back.

"Set a course for Osun, in the Hourglass Nebula; there's a prison starship called the _Purgatory_ that we'll be retrieving a package from."

With a barely concealed sigh he responded, "Commander, you're great and all, but we're already heading to the deepest depths of hell as it is; do you _really_ think it's necessary that we go to Purgatory too?"

"Joker..." she warned.

"Alright, alright, just sayin'. Coordinating flight vect—" he went silent then called over the intercom, "uh, Commander?"

"Yes, Joker?"

"There's an incoming call from the Illusive Man, marked urgent; I'm patching it through."

"Mmph, can it wait until we pick up our package from _Purgatory_?"

This time it was Kelly who answered. "No can do, Commander. The Illusive Man wishes to speak to you now; Joker patched it through to the debriefing room," she said with an apologetic smile. Shepard was beginning to get tired of the Illusive Man disrupting the pace she had set for this mission; it was grating on her nerves, having to put everything on hold for him every time he checked in. She sighed, "Alright, I'm on my way."

Everything about the new Normandy screamed money—from the sleeker design, all the way down to Joker's chair—it was infuriating. The quantum entanglement-based communications array was no exception; it allowed for real-time holographic communication with the Illusive Man, and provided yet another way for him to keep close tabs on the status of the mission. Infuriating, indeed.

"Shepard," he said in way of greeting, "I think we have them! Horizon—one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems—just went silent. If it isn't under attack, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the countermeasure for the seeker swarms?"

"Not yet," she answered.

"Let's hope he works well under pressure."

"Can we put this off until I retrieve the package from _Purgatory_? They might prove to be useful against the Collectors," she reasoned.

"Shepard, this is more important. Your package will be there when you get back; I'll make sure the funds clear on time."

She opened her mouth to argue when he cut her off with his next sentence: "There's something else you should know..." he paused to take a excruciatingly long drag from his cigarette, "One of your former crew, Ashley Williams—she's stationed on Horizon."

_What?_

"Last I knew, Ash was Alliance. Why is she out in the Terminus Systems?" Shepard asked in shock.

"Officially, it's an outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonists," he answered almost too quickly. "But they're up to something. And if they sent Chief Williams, it must be big. Perhaps you should take it up with her," he said cryptically. There was something strange about what he was telling her...

"The Collectors just _happened_ to pick a colony with one of my former crew? I don't buy it."

"It shouldn't be a surprise that the Collectors are interested in you. Especially if they're working for the Reapers," he paused, then continued quietly. "They might be going after her to get to you."

Shepard froze. They were using Ash to get to her? But why? And why couldn't the Alliance help her? She was a part of them, after all.

"Send a message to the Alliance; tip them off or something. Let them handle it and see the threat of the Collectors and Reapers for themselves," Shepard spat. "Let them see the fruit of their ignorance. You can use your contacts to gather whatever information they find, while I do the job I was _assigned_ to do."

"Shepard, you were _assigned_ to eliminate the Collectors. This is part of that assignment. I'm not going to tell them anything until you investigate; I don't want the Alliance getting in our way. Once you have the situation under control, I'll send the message personally."

She sighed. "Fine, send the coordinates. We'll head straight there."

As she turned to leave, she heard him say, "This is the most warning we've ever had, Shepard. Good luck."

_Yeah, whatever._

"Joker, did you get the coordinates?"

"Plotting flight vectors as we speak, Commander. ETA about 2 hours and 15 minutes. I'll notify you when we're 45 minutes out and approaching drop point."

"Thanks, Joker." As scattered as his mind was sometimes, he never neglected the finer details of anything. She'd have to thank him again for that later.

"EDI," she called, as she headed towards Mordin's lab.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Please inform Garrus and Miranda that they are to suit up, stop by the lab to pick up the countermeasure, and meet me in the hangar as soon as Joker gives us the final ETA. Oh, and let Miranda know that _I_ will be writing up the report for this particular mission, no exceptions."

"Understood."

If there was a chance of encountering Ash on Horizon, Shepard wanted to be the one to type up the following report, lest Miranda add in extraneous detail about Ash that would provide the Illusive Man with more leverage against her. But for now, she had more pressing matters at hand.

"Tell me you have something, Mordin."

Mordin looked over at her from the display he had been examining.

"Yes."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

My infinite gratitude to those of you who leave such kind feedback; it really encourages me to write faster and brings a smile to my face. Also to those of you who added this story to your alerts, I can't tell you enough how encouraging that is, knowing that there are readers out there who enjoy what I write for pleasure. Hugs for every man, woman, child, puppy, and kitty. And...other animals. Who read. ...yeah...

A cookie to whoever can pick out the Zaeed reference. No really, I'll send you a cookie made of intarwebs. ;)

In case any of you were wondering, the use of the name 'Nahla' _was_ intentional. It's in reference to the message Shepard receives shortly after recruiting Archangel. Her hubby didn't have a name, so I thought I'd give him one instead of calling the poor fellow 'Nahla's hubby' throughout the entire flashback. Heehee.

We can see a little bit more of Garrus' character in this chapter, which I enjoyed writing. I decided to give Sidonis' betrayal an actual story, in order to really emphasize the fact that betrayal from someone you trust is not something that can be forgotten very easily. It also holds you back from trusting _others_ as well (dun dun dun...), which I thought was something feasible for Garrus to be experiencing--I hope you enjoyed it.

Let me know what you think of this chapter, and where you expect this story to go. I have my ideas, but I'd like to see if they coincide with anyone else's. Chapter 7 is written and Chapter 8 is on the way. Feedback, constructive criticisms, questions, and concerns are all welcome. Hah, another long AN, fancy that..


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Bioware owns Mass Effect and all that is good in the world. Including cookies.

_**

* * *

Chapter 7**_

"What the hell _is_ that thing?"

The horrific, mind-numbing shriek was enough to draw Shepard's attention to their new enemy. This was unlike any of the Collector drones they had fought just moments before; nor was it a husk by any stretch of the imagination. It was a huge abomination that slightly resembled a flying manta ray with two protrusions on either side acting as arms. Shepard also saw the remnants of at least thirty husks, embedded or fused into its rather formidably armored body.

"Whatever it is, I'm not taking any chances!" Shepard called into her comm. Whether it had heard her vocal vibrations, or it had sensed her presence, the massive construction began to slowly move its way towards her location, emitting what looked like the same type of beam that was released by the Collector particle launcher she had picked off a drone. However, the similarities ended there; the sheer force of the beam was nearly triple that of the one emitted from the gun in her hand. That and the sound. The ear-piercing scream of metal scraping against a chalkboard was the closest comparison Shepard could come up with; it was deafening and mind-splitting at the same time.

Shepard's mind was still reeling from the harsh intrusion of the Harbinger upon their first encounter on the colony.

"_You will know pain, Shepard; you cannot resist. If I must kill you, I will. We fight as one." _

The voice had pierced through her mind like needle through skin, and she still felt it; searching for control, barraging her mind with unspoken horrors. And now this monster, this..._thing_ was emitting a sound from its body and through its beam that was shaking the very core of being. She felt herself slowly going crazy; perhaps she was already crazy. She didn't know anymore. Her sense of self was slowly slipping away as she crouched behind cover, frozen in place by an unknown fear and the distinct sensation that she was losing her mind. She knew she was going to die; she had to die, its voice, the sound, it wouldn't stop until she stopped breathing. She had to—

"_Shepard!_" From somewhere she heard a scream; a panicked yell that spoke her name. Next thing she knew, she was being tackled to the ground from where she sat, hunched over like some beetle, and next to her was—

"Garrus?"

"Shepard, what the _hell_ are you doing? We need to take that thing out ASAP!"

Reality came flooding back to her in a loud rush—the giant, flying Collector creation that was heading towards her; Garrus staring at her shocked face with an equally shocked bewilderment, and over by the crates was—

"Miranda!"

Miranda was on the ground, bleeding profusely from what looked like a shoulder wound. _Strange_, Shepard thought, _shoulder wounds don't bleed out that quickly._ Then it dawned on her that Miranda had gotten hit by the beam. It had somehow taken her shields down quickly enough that Miranda didn't have time to steady herself behind proper cover.

"Shepard! What's the matter with you? That thing already took out Miranda and all you can do is stare at it? We need to come up with a plan to take it down!" Garrus yelled in her ear.

_Right_. She was Commander Shepard; she was on Horizon, investigating the Collector threat and had been defending the defense turrets as EDI re-calibrated them and brought them back on-line. And now she was fighting a huge Collector-husk _thing_ that was making neat work of her team. Shepard wasted no time in wondering what had happened to her; taking that thing out and getting to Miranda were her top priorities right now. She saw that the thing was not only heavily armored, but also had a barrier around itself that was nigh-impenetrable. _Damn it, we could really use Miranda's warp right about now, _she thought futilely.

Shepard knew that against a barrier of that strength, her usual ordnance would do pitiful amounts of damage, except...

She took out the Collector particle beam launcher, and shot it at the direction of the thing before ducking down for cover when it released a beam of its own. As the particle beam made quick work of its barrier, it suddenly crashed to the ground, sending a deadly pulse out around its immediate vicinity. It wasn't dead, but—

"Garrus, stay away from it, but give that thing everything you got; it's vulnerable while it's on the ground!" she yelled into her comm. It was on the ground for a few seconds more before it flew back into the air, barrier recharged. Knowing their opponent now, and how to disable it slowly, Shepard and Garrus made quick work of it, until it was nothing but a pile of smoldering blue-black ash that quickly disintegrated into nothing. The Collector ship was being decimated by the defense turrets EDI had re-calibrated, as it slowly made its way back into the atmosphere, half of the colonists still on-board. She had failed.

_No time to dwell on that now, Shepard, _she chided herself. With that immediate threat gone, her mind moved to Miranda. She rushed over and nearly vomited at the acrid smell of heavily burnt flesh. The wound was unbelievably severe; Miranda would need medical attention right away. There was no way that any amount of medi-gel would stall or even lessen the bleeding, and Miranda had already lost vast amounts of blood. It was a wonder as to why she wasn't dead already.

"Normandy, do you copy? We need shuttle pickup ASAP, Miranda's in really bad shape. We've been able to stabilize her breathing for now, but that's the best medi-gel could do."

"Copy that, Commander. We're sending the cockroach down now with the Doc on-board. Stand by for pick up," Joker's voiced echoed through her helmet.

As she turned back to Miranda, she saw one of the colonists from earlier, Delan, running towards her. "No! What did you do? Don't let them get away!" he gestured to the speck in the sky that was quickly getting smaller.

"There's nothing we can do. They're gone, I'm sorry." Fatigue of the day was quickly catching up to Shepard, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a frantic colonist.

"Half the colony's in there! They took Egan and Sam and...and Lilith! Do something!" he yelled.

"Listen, I didn't want it to end this way. I did what I could," Shepard tried to reason with him. But there was no getting through to him.

"More than most, Shepard," Garrus' voice was supportive.

At the name, Delan stopped his rant. "Shepard? Wait. I know that name." He turned to look at her more carefully, recognition drawing on his face. "Sure, I remember you. You're some type of big Alliance hero," he sneered. Shepard made to respond to his tone, when the voice she heard next stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy. The first human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel." The owner of the voice turned to the colonist, "You're in the presence of a _god_, Delan." And then turned back to Shepard, "Back from the dead."

"All the good people we lost, and you get left behind. _Figures_," Delan sneered at the woman. "Screw this," he spat, "I'm done with you Alliance types," he stormed off.

The woman turned to her and held out her hand, "I thought you were dead, Commander. We all did."

_Ash. _Shepard had been so sure that Ash had been one of those that had been taken by the Collectors. Why else would they not have encountered her until now? As millions of questions buzzed through her mind, Shepard glanced down at the offered hand and stopped. Something wasn't right; the Ashley she knew would never greet with a _handshake_, like two strangers that happened to share a military career in common. Shepard looked back to Chief Williams' face. Something didn't feel right; the look on Ashley's face was something akin to...anger, carefully concealed by relief.

"You don't sound too happy to see me. Is something bothering you, Ash?"

The carefully concealed anger now reared its ugly head, "Yeah, something's bothering me. I spent the last two years believing you were dead, while you show up and act like nothing's happened!" She paused, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes, " I would've followed you anywhere, Commander. I thought you were gone...I...you were more than our Commander. Why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you were alive?"

"Not my choice, Ash. I spent the last two years in some kind of coma while Cerberus rebuilt me. Besides, when I came to, I found out that you had moved on with your career and your life. I figured it was best not to reopen old wounds."

At the mention of Cerberus, Ashley took a step back, "I moved on...but here you are; pulling me back in. And now you're saying you're with Cerberus?" She looked to Garrus, who had been standing behind her, "You too, Garrus?" she asked quietly. "I can't believe the reports were right."

At that, Garrus interrupted, "Reports? You mean you already knew?"

"Alliance intel said Cerberus could be behind our missing colonies. We got a tip that this one could be the next one to get hit," she replied. "I went to Anderson, but he wouldn't talk. But there were rumors that you weren't dead. Worse; that you were working for the enemy."

"Which is why you were stationed here, then. Listen Ash, our colonies are disappearing. The Alliance turned its back on them. Cerberus is the only group willing to do something about it. But that doesn't mean I answer to them."

"Bullshit! I know what Cerberus is like. They talk about putting humans first, but at what cost? Do you _really_ believe that, Commander? Or is that what they _want_ you to think? I wanted to believe that you were alive...I just never expected anything like this." She took a breath before continuing, "You've turned your back on everything we stood for! You betrayed the Alliance...Anderson. You betrayed me. _How could you_?"

At that, Shepard's own frustration against Cerberus and Ash's lack of foresight slowly began seeping up to the surface. How _dare_ she accuse her of betrayal, when Shepard did nothing but stick her neck out for the Alliance, time and time again? If anything, the betrayal was on Ash's end, not hers. But blowing up in Ash's face about it was hardly the best way to try and get her to see reason.

Shepard looked over to Miranda, to make sure she was still alive. She could see from here that by the rise and fall of her chest, Miranda's breathing was shallow, but steady. _Damn it, where was the shuttle? _But there was no time to worry about that now, not when her ex-Gunnery Chief was accusing _her_ of betraying the Alliance.

"Ash, you _know_ me. You know I'd only do this for the right reason. Besides, this isn't even about me working for Cerberus. Something far more important is at stake, and you know it. You saw it yourself. The Collectors are targeting human colonies. And they're working with the Reapers!"

"I'd like to believe you, Shepard, but I don't trust Cerberus. And it worries me that you do." She took another step back, as if backing away from something repulsive, "What did they do to you? What if they're behind it? What if _they're_ the ones working with the Collectors?"

Before Shepard could respond, she heard Garrus voice her answer: "Damn it, Williams. You're so focused on Cerberus that you're ignoring the real threat! You're letting how you feel about their history get in the way of undeniable facts!"

But Ashley was no longer seeing or hearing facts; she was blinded and deafened by what she saw as Shepard's betrayal. "Or maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus because they saved you. Maybe it's you!" She shook her head, "Doesn't matter...I still know where _my_ loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier, it's in my blood. I'm reporting back to the Citadel. I'll let them decide if they believe your story."

That, along with the mental beating she had taken from Harbinger and the unidentified Collector beast, broke Shepard's mental restrain on her anger and frustration:

"You're going to let the _Alliance_ decide if they believe my 'story'? As if I'm some kind of petty criminal whose testimony needs to go up against jurors? We both know how that's going to turn out. They're going to blame Cerberus, just like you did. Just like the Council blamed the Reaper threat on _my_ mental instability, _after _I proved them wrong! The Alliance hasn't changed a bit—they'll use anything and anyone as a scapegoat, so that they can all sleep better at night—just like the Council."

Shepard paused before continuing, "You're no longer part of my crew, Williams, but don't forget that I was first and foremost your Commander. Stop and think about what that title means. It tells of my sworn allegiance to the Alliance; it means that I didn't get to where I am now without the ability to tell right from wrong, good from bad. And right now, Williams, it tells me that you were lying to me when you said you would've followed me anywhere, because that kind of commitment and trust _doesn't_ get shattered by one 'report' with a triggering name on it!"

Shepard felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, in quiet and implicit support of her words, and lending her the strength she no longer had. It also served to tell her that the shuttle, which had taken its sweet time, was now landing behind them. As Shepard turned to walk away from the woman whom she had once considered to be like her sister, she looked back one last time to emphasize her parting words:

"From where I stand, Gunnery Chief Williams, the betrayal is yours."

With that, Shepard turned towards the owner of the hand that had been supporting her to give him a nod of thanks, and moved to help get Miranda on to the shuttle, where Doctor Chakwas was waiting with a knowing look on her face. As the shuttle's door was closing, Shepard could barely make out a stunned Ashley standing where she was, with a strange look on her face.

As the Kodiak started making its slow ascent towards the Normandy pick-up point, Shepard irritably called to her pilot over the comm:

"Joker, have the Normandy prepped and ready to jump to the nearest relay as soon as you make pick-up. I've had enough of this damned system to last me two lifetimes."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

From the beginning, I had intended to really draw out the conversation between Ash and Shepard on Horizon, because I felt like that entire scene wasn't done any justice in the game. For example, if I had been in-game Shepard, I would've punched Ash in the face for her idiocy and inability to think for herself. Unnecessary violence aside, however, I felt that Shepard's response was much too muted for Shepard's character and strength, and the fact that s/he had no other choice but to take it head-on, without having the opportunity to really duke it out with Ash inspired the particular exchange that occurs in this chapter of mine.

Also, when I first played through the Horizon mission and encountered Harbinger, it seemed very unlikely to me that he would be saying his "death words," as I like to call it, in the thick of battle, gunshots, and particle beams. The Collector drones also didn't seem to have anything resembling a mouth, so... it just seemed to make sense that Harbinger's voice was something only Shepard could hear in her mind. This concept will play out more vividly in the next chapter.

Due to the characters of Garrus and Shepard insisting that I pull them this way, there is some angst coming in Chapter 8.

I hope you all enjoyed it; let me know what you think. (i.e., FEEDBACK is yummy).


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: Blah blah, Bioware+Mass Effect

_**

* * *

Chapter 8**_

"Commander, I've set a course for the _Purgatory;_ ETA is about 5 hours and 10 minutes. I'll let you know when we're 30 minutes out."

Joker's voice came through to the deck of the CIC, as Shepard reappeared from her debriefing with the Illusive Man. He had been completely indifferent to hearing that Miranda had sustained serious injuries. Instead, he had been more interested in the creature that had been able to take Miranda by surprise. His intel had named the thing a Praetorian—a Collector monstrosity that was most likely the result of crude experimentations with fusing husks together. When Shepard had voiced her acknowledgment of failure in only being able to save half the colony, his response had been surprising:

"_That's better than an entire colony being abducted, and more than we've accomplished since the abductions began. The Collectors will be more careful now, but I think we can find another way to lure them in."_

_Lure them in_, he had said. Upon further questioning, the Illusive Man had revealed to Shepard that on his suspicions, he released a carefully worded rumor to the Alliance regarding Shepard being alive and her relationship with Cerberus. "_A calculated risk,"_ he had argued, given that his suspicions had been proven correct—the Collectors had been looking for those that were connected to Shepard in some way, so that they would be able to get to her through them. At that, he had asked pointedly whether she had been able to put her "past relationships" behind her; there was no looking back once they went through the Omega-4 Relay, and no room for weak resolve.

"_Be careful, Shepard,"_ he had said. "_The Collectors will be watching you."_

As she left the debriefing room, Shepard heard Joker's voice over the intercom.

"Negative, Joker; I need a status report on my XO before we can head there. Engage stealth and stand by." Shepard replied. She would need the operative's knowledge of Cerberus protocols when they boarded the prison starship in a few hours, and if Miranda was still out, Shepard would need to change plans.

"Aye, aye, Commander. I'll be here, you know, twiddling my thumbs. Unless they break."

With a smile, Shepard headed down to the med bay. To Doctor Chakwas, as skilled as she was, Miranda's wound would be completely foreign, and so Shepard couldn't predict what Miranda's recovery time would be.

"Hey Doc," she greeted as she scanned the room for her dark-haired second-in-command. "Where's Miranda?"

"Operative Lawson returned to her office about 20 minutes ago. It was strange; I had never seen anything like it. From what I saw on the shuttle, the skin on her shoulder had completely burned off, and she had lost a terrible amount of blood." She paused before slowly continuing, "but by the time we brought her here, her skin had almost completely healed and all I needed to do was replace some of the fluids she had lost. She walked out of here as soon as she woke up!"

Shepard was just as dumbfounded as the good doctor was, but relieved nonetheless. "Thanks again, Doc," she waved as she walked out. She quickly made her way over to Miranda's office to make sure the woman was indeed alive.

"How are you feeling, Miranda?"

"As well as can be expected, Commander," she answered nonchalantly. "What can I do for you?"

"I know you're recovering, but I need you ready at Joker's final ETA call when we board the prison starship; I have a feeling they won't be so keen on giving up such an expensive package until the funds clear. I'll need your knowledge of Cerberus protocol in case we come up against any problems with the transaction."

"Understood, Commander. Rest assured, my wounds are completely healed and the doctor's fluid replacement worked very well. I'll be ready."

Shepard made a mental note to have a more extensive chat later with Miranda about her regenerative abilities. For now, she needed a hot shower to relax her aching muscles. As she got back on the lift en route to her quarters she called out, "EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Give Joker the green light on _Purgatory_; it seems Miranda's fit for duty."

"Understood."

–

With the scalding hot water pounding on her tired back muscles, Shepard let her mind drift back to what had happened back on Horizon, the voice of Harbinger still ringing in her mind.

"_You cannot resist. If I must kill you, Shepard, I will."_

Despite the temperature of the water, Shepard felt a cold chill creeping slowly up her spine at the memory of the its voice and intrusion. She didn't know which was worse—having heard Harbinger's voice in her head, or _still_ being able to hear his voice. It seemed to her that his voice was pushing all sense of sanity out of her reach, and slowly perverting and corrupting her sense of self. It was the same sensation she had experienced when she had first encountered the Praetorian. The sound that it emitted through its deadly beam seemed to have been tuned in to the same frequency as Harbinger's voice, so that his words now became twice as destructive and twice as debilitating. She felt herself falling into a dark chasm, from whence escape was not an option, only death—

She opened her eyes and realized that her breathing was ragged and the water had stopped; the timer had run out. All shower systems on any large frigate was designed with an exact timer, so as to keep the water supply constant among all the crew members. While usually the timed showers were unwelcome, this time the sudden cessation of water flow was what had snapped her out of whatever reverie she had been lost in. For that, she was grateful.

She also came to a startling realization that Garrus had also been able to pull her out of whatever desperate pit of despair Harbinger had prepared for her. She would have to thank Garrus later; if it hadn't been for his timely intervention, she would be nothing but a disintegrated corpse left on Horizon. It was a terrifying prospect to close her eyes again, after that incident.

Recognizing that she would get nothing else done right now, Shepard stepped out in her towel. Normally, she would use the dryer that was situated across from the shower head, but after the thoughts that had been plaguing her mind, she wanted the feel of the cool room-temperature air against her skin to refocus her mind—she needed a change of pace. She didn't get far however, when she saw Doctor Chakwas standing rather quietly against her cabin doors.

"Doctor Chakwas? What are you doing here? Did something happen?"

The older woman looked over at Shepard, "I should ask you the same thing, Commander. EDI informed me that the water temperature in your shower had reached a critical level, where any further exposure would result in second- to third-degree burns. It suggested immediate intervention."

Shepard was at an utter loss of words. She glanced down at her legs and the back of her arms, and sure enough, angry red welts had begun to form in vicious formations. "Oh! I...I didn't even realize that the water was so hot; I just wanted to relax my muscles a bit, Doc. No harm done. Sorry for worrying you."

"Luckily, I brought some ointment with me that should help with the irritation and swelling. Be well, Commander, you know where to find me." With that, she exited the room, leaving a stunned Shepard with a tube of unknown, viscous gel that she had no intention of putting anywhere near her body. She turned to the AI console that was next to the doors.

"EDI," she called.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"What was that?"

"What was what, Shepard?"

Irritation was slowly inching towards the surface. "_That,_" she gestured towards the door, "Doctor Chakwas; _you_ monitoring my showers?"

"As I mentioned to you during our first meeting, my purpose on this ship is not to take human lives. Rather, it is in my protocol that I watch over them. While most of my computing power is delegated to flying the ship with Mr. Moreau, I do have background processes that monitor the external variables on the ship that may adversely affect the crew, such as gravity simulation on the ship, temperature and pressure gauges for the showers, cooking temperatures for the oven, all the way down to the barometric pressure in the crews' quarters. One of my background readings indicated that the water temperature gauge in the captain's quarters was quickly approaching critical levels. I intentionally stopped the timer prematurely, because you did not seem to be reacting to the threat as expected."

Shepard sighed; even the damnable AI had been able to guess that Shepard was acting strangely. "Was it that bad, EDI?" she asked resignedly.

"At the time of valve shut-off, my readings read 50.22 degrees Celsius."

She hissed at the AI's response; surely she would have noticed if the water had gotten that hot? Shepard realized that she would need to talk to someone soon about what had happened on Horizon. But how would she approach anyone without making herself sound crazy? _So, Miranda, I thought I should let you know that while we were fighting Collector drones on Horizon, I heard voices in my head that nearly drove me insane. Actually, I think it did. _No, that wouldn't work. She would have to get over it somehow, if she was going to see this mission through; weak mental resolve wasn't going to get her anywhere near the Omega-4 Relay.

She dressed quickly and headed back down to the CIC; perhaps she had received some messages that would distract her.

"Commander, you have unread messages at your private terminal," Kelly announced as soon as she saw the Commander exit the lift. "Perfect timing, Kelly, thank you," Shepard answered.

_Distracting, indeed_. She had received several messages from Cerberus regarding a new type of armor they had developed, to better suit her fighting style. Shepard glanced over those, and her eyes immediately settled on a message from a woman named Nahla Butler, entitled _Take care of Garrus_. It read:

_'Commander Shepard,_

_My husband was one of the men serving on Garrus' team. I don't know how much Garrus talked to you about what happened. I don't know the specifics myself, only that my husband died in a trap set by those bastard gangs. I know Garrus blames himself; he took every shot fired at his squad as a failure on his part, and it was clear when he sent me the message about my husband that he thinks it was his fault._

_My husband would never have wanted that. He was proud of the work he did on Garrus' squad. He was taking back Omega from the gangs. He died fighting with honor. I miss him. God, I'd give anything to get him back. But whatever happened there wasn't Garrus' fault._

_You're his commander now. Please, if you can, help him stop blaming himself. And please don't tell him that I sent you this. Thank you._

_-Nahla Butler'_

Shepard stood still, re-reading the message. Her mind wandered back to their meeting on Omega, and the dead look in his eyes; it had been _regret. _He was not being spurred on by revenge alone; he was desperately regretting what had happened to his squad—his team. Nahla had asked her to 'help him from blaming himself.' Knowing Garrus, Shepard knew what kind of endeavor that would be; he was as stubborn as his aim was precise—this would take time and patience.

All thoughts of Harbinger and the Praetorian discarded from her mind for now, Shepard made her way down towards the Main Battery. He had blown her off once; she would invoke her military status if she had to, in order to make him to talk to her now. She didn't like doing it, but right now it was definitely an option that Shepard left open.

"Shepard," he greeted, "Need me for something?"

"Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

A shadow fell across his face as he started to formulate yet another excuse about re-calibrating the weapon systems or whatnot. "Actually, I'm in the middle of—"

"Garrus, as your commanding officer, I request that you make time to talk to me _now_. Those cannons can wait a few minutes, and if you're really that concerned about them, I'll have EDI do it."

Garrus stared at Shepard for several seconds before he nodded, resignation clearly written on his face. Shepard was his friend and mentor, but after what he had witnessed on Horizon, and his former military training, he knew better than to decline a formal request from his commanding officer.

"Garrus," she began quietly, "I know your days on Omega have scarred you beyond what you even realize. And after our last discussion, I can't help but feel worried that you're letting the death of your squad and Sidonis' betrayal cloud your better sense of judgment."

He had expected a comment about Horizon, or a quip about their days on the old Normandy. At the very least, he expected some kind of preface to what Shepard would say. But not this. And not now; he could not bring himself to talk freely about what had happened—not even with Shepard.

"I, ah...appreciate your concern Shepard, but I'm afraid I don't quite follow you. What happened on Omega was unfortunate, but like I told you before, Sidonis deserves what he has coming to him."

Shepard watched him carefully as he expertly denied whatever concern she had tried to bring up.

"Come on, Garrus, don't bullshit me now, not after everything we've been through. You've changed; I know you have. It's in your eyes and written all over your face."

"What is?"

"The fact that you blame yourself for the death of your team," she answered softly.

"Shepard, while I regret losing my men, the blame rests with Sidonis, not myself. I realize that. There was nothing I could've done to prevent what happened."

Shepard recognized those words immediately; they were the same words she had uttered to herself while setting up the emergency beacon on Akuze. _There was nothing I could've done to prevent what happened_. The words had not been said to console herself; rather, they had been words of denial. Denial of what had happened—of the fact that she had been cursed to live on with the memory of the horrifying deaths of her entire squad from the thresher maw. It had been denial, not acceptance; something she had used to tell anyone who approached her about the event, as a clever ruse to disguise the guilt she felt for being alive. And she felt a sinking in her heart, as she realized Garrus had said the same words, with the same thoughts behind it.

"Garrus, do you really believe that?" He opened his mouth to answer when Shepard cut him off, "No, hold on and really think about it—do you _really_ believe that you don't blame yourself?"

As Garrus watched this woman speak, he saw a slow fire starting to burn behind her eyes; something that he thought he would never see again. She spoke again, this time in a harsher tone:

"Cut the crap with me, Garrus, because you know that you blame yourself everyday, knowing that your men are gone. You say you blame Sidonis, because that's the normal resolution of grief into anger, when in reality, you wish that Tarak's missile really did take you out for good, so that you wouldn't have to deal with the blood of your men on your hands."

She paused to take a breath before continuing, while Garrus stood still, looking down at this small human female, talking to him as only a commanding officer would. If it had been under different circumstances, Garrus would have paused to appreciate the irony.

"Do you really think blaming yourself for their deaths is the best way to honor their memories?"

He spoke, "It's no longer about honoring their memories, Shepard. They're dead and gone because of one cowardly traitor. The only way that I will be able to rest easy is knowing that Sidonis is dead by my hands. And until that happens, I intend on exhausting my contacts until I find him. And when I find him," he held her gaze, "there will be nothing you can do to stop me from putting a bullet in his head." His mind froze at his confession. _What have I done? No, _he thought, _no! That's not what I meant!_

At that, Shepard took a step back—not out of fear, but out of anger and revulsion. The annoyance that had slowly been building up now broke through the surface at his words. There was a barely veiled threat in his words that left Shepard with an incorrigible fury; regardless of the situation, Shepard was still his superior. To threaten his commanding officer knowingly and willingly was an act of_ mutiny,_ which was punishable by death, had they been on an Alliance vessel. Fortunately for him, this was a civilian vessel.

"_There will be nothing I can do to stop you_, Garrus?" she repeated slowly, anger lacing each syllable. "You're _really_ in over your head on that one _Vakarian_," she spat. "I extended to you the courtesy of speaking on equal footing—as friends. And all you can do is be completely consumed by your anger and need for revenge, and spit that courtesy back in my face," she growled. "I suppose I should have known that extending friendship to you now was much too early. I won't make the same mistake again." Garrus took a slight step back, as the woman's eyes burned with an anger that he had only seldom seen; the last time she had that look on her face was..._Horizon_. _Shit._

"Quite frankly, I don't care if you've become so disillusioned with morality and justice that you're willing to dig your own grave with them. But you are _sorely_ mistaken if you think I'm going to let that disillusionment run rampant on _my_ ship."

She turned sharply and looked over at the intercom on the ceiling, "Joker!" she barked.

"Commander?"

"I want you to queue up flight vectors for the Citadel as soon as my team and I board the _Purgatory_. Be prepped and ready to go; I don't expect to be there for very long. Understood?"

"Aye aye."

When she was sure Joker had switched off the intercom, she turned back to Garrus, who was observing her through carefully masked eyes, a strangely neutral expression on his face.

"The Citadel, Shepard?" he asked.

"That's _Commander_ Shepard to you, Vakarian," she responded tightly. There was a brief flash of shock that quickly dissipated to carefully concealed anger. She saw it, and the scowl deepened on her face.

"You're just lucky I respected you, once upon a time. Otherwise I would've tossed your sorry ass out the nearest airlock without batting an eyelash."

"Consider yourself discharged from service aboard the Normandy as soon as we dock on the Citadel, Garrus; I want you off my ship."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

Before I launch in, I'd like to express my thanks at those of you who took the time out to send feedback via reviews or messages. You have no idea how encouraging that is, and how much it makes me want to keep writing! Cookies for everyone :)

I'm ambivalent towards how this chapter turned out, but after massive amounts of editing, this was the best I could do. For those of you who are concerned that Garrus is OOC, or that the events listed here are non in-canon, do not fear! Garrus has gone through a tough betrayal by someone he trusted, which has left him unwilling to trust anyone else--including himself. His reactions in this chapter are pretty typical of someone who is _lost_ as lost can be. The event that occurs at the end of the chapter is speculation as to what _could have _happened in-between missions/traveling across the galaxy. I'm working on Chapter 9 now, so stay tuned!

Also, let me know how this worked for you--too much? Too little? Just right?


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I know I usually don't do ANs in the beginning, but I felt that this chapter really needed one, mainly so I could apologize profusely for the late update! I'm so sorry; I hit a nasty writer's block and had to re-write this chapter more than a couple times in order to get it right. I don't like publishing something that's half-assed just because I want to update regularly, because I feel like I'm doing such an injustice to all of you. Please forgive? I gives you cookie? That's it up here; more AN goodies down thar.

**Disclaimer: **BIOWARE!

_**

* * *

Chapter 9**_

"_I want you off my ship."_

Garrus stared, dumbfounded at Shepard's retreating back—which, he noticed, was very taut with tension. _How could he not have seen where his traitorous mind would take him? What could he say? Why didn't he stop himself? _Regardless of his thoughts now, Garrus was quickly coming to the realization that the conversation he had had with Shepard had not been a bad dream. In his selfishness, he had all but spit the kind offer Shepard had made right back in her face.

And now Shepard was quickly walking away from him with an expression of quiet fury and unspeakable sadness on her face, and there was nothing Garrus could do, because she had been right about all of it; he had stepped so far out of line that it was a wonder as to why he wasn't dead (yet). As the Main Battery doors quietly signaled her departure, Garrus silently turned back around to the firing algorithms he had been working on.

"EDI," he called.

"Officer Vakarian," she answered.

"Please integrate these firing algorithms into your defense protocol."

There was a brief silence before she responded, "Officer Vakarian, while I _am_ designed to operate the defense systems aboard the Normandy, it has been shown that a non-AI crew-member's skills are better suited for GARDIAN hostile target input, as well as optimization for firing trajectories."

Garrus sighed, "EDI, did you listen to the conversation between Shepard and myself a few minutes ago?"

"Contrary to popular belief on the ship, Officer Vakarian, I do not actively eavesdrop on conversations for which I have not been given express permission. Besides, the various listening and monitoring devices on board are there so that the Illusive Man is able to keep track of his rather large monetary investment. I do not release information that is deemed too personal or too sensitive—only those that may affect the mission adversely. For instance, while I do have the ability to monitor showers and conversations within personal space, my protocols have deemed them to be a waste of processing power. Hence, I do not partake in accessing that information. I always work at optimal capacity."

Garrus was shocked into silence for the second time in the last two hours—it was becoming a rather unfortunate habit.

"Wait," he responded finally, "you mean to tell me that you have _limits_ to your surveillance?"

When the AI answered, he could've sworn that he had heard a hint of coolness in the synthesized voice which hadn't been there before.

"While the Illusive Man may hold extremist views on certain topics, individual privacy is not one of them," it answered. "He recognizes that on a ship such as the Normandy, invasion of privacy would be wholly counterproductive."

Garrus coughed uncomfortably; it wasn't often that he was corrected by an AI. "Ah...well, the reason I ask is because I won't be here to see to the systems myself."

"Shepard discharged me from service aboard the Normandy," he continued. _Damn it, it definitely sounded as bad as it felt._ "It was my fault; I...I stepped out of line."

"Officer Vakarian, you do realize that this is a civilian vessel?"

"I'm aware—it's just...it's Shepard. With her it doesn't matter what kind of ship I'm on; I...I'm forever indebted to her for personal reasons..." he trailed off.

"Although she's right," he thought aloud. "If she's walking into the depths of hell, she needs someone to walk in with her as support, not as a liability..." He dropped his face into his taloned hands; _all of this because of Sidonis, _he thought bitterly. Forgiveness was something he would not entertain for the traitor. Sidonis needed to die, and if he ever came across him, Garrus would make sure that it happened. Before his heavy ruminations could relapse into something more sinister, however, they were interrupted by the AI, who spoke with the coolness gone form its voice:

"Officer Vakarian, the Illusive Man compiled the dossiers for Shepard, knowing her strengths and weaknesses, as well as that of each listed recruit. He made sure that everyone on the dossier provided an essential skill on the ship and in combat, and made sure each potential recruit complemented Shepard's strengths, and compensated for her weaknesses. Among them, _you_ came highly recommended after Professor Solus. It seems both the Illusive Man and Operative Lawson felt that you had skills as a former C-Sec officer and vigilante which were difficult to ignore."

Garrus reluctantly responded, "Shepard will find a replacement soon. That's what makes her a good Commander."

"I'm afraid not, Officer Vakarian."

"Excuse me?"

"Shepard needs _your_ skills—both in combat and aboard the ship. Whether or not you are able to understand this is irrelevant."

Garrus stared, wide-eyed at the holographic sphere on the AI console. "Shepard...needs a better Gunnery Officer, EDI—not someone who isn't able to control his own temper and threatens his commanding officer. She needs someone that she can trust without having to look back over her shoulders every time; she has enough on her plate with the suicide mission as it is..."

_Oh God, Shepard, I am so sorry._

–

As Shepard equipped her armor and weapons, she ran through a mental checklist of everything that had to be done when they arrived on the prison starship, _Purgatory_. The conversation that she had with Garrus had been very unsettling and rather stressful. As a military commander, Shepard rarely second-guessed herself and her decisions—regardless of how difficult those decisions may have been—but on a civilian ship, she was beginning to wonder if she had let her emotions take reigns of the situation.

_Had she_, though? He had threatened to harm her if she were to try and get in the way of his revenge against Sidonis. Anger, she could understand well, but what Garrus had shown her was something unlike anything she had ever encountered before. It was difficult to describe, but the best she could come up with was a _desperate _need for vengeance, for atonement. No, a desperate need for atonement and vindication _through_ murderous revenge. Shepard had never encountered nor experienced such a conglomeration of hate, and she had no idea how to handle it—thus allowing her own emotions to take control of the situation.

"Commander," Joker's voice rang throughout her cabin. "Approaching the _Purgatory _at ETA being 30 minutes."

"Thanks, Joker," she answered. As she grabbed her helmet and headed towards the elevator that would take her to the shuttle hangar, Shepard couldn't help but be bothered by a voice in the back of her head nagging that she had indeed been too harsh. Regardless, this was not the time to dwell on it; she would talk to him again before they set off towards the Citadel to see if there was any chance of mending.

"EDI, please tell Mordin to suit up and meet me at the hangar; Miranda should already be there."

"Understood, Shepard."

–

"My apologies, Shepard. You're more valuable as a prisoner than a customer. Drop your weapons and proceed into this open cell. You will not be harmed."

_Shit_. Shepard _knew_ that something hadn't settled right when she first met the Warden. Even Miranda quietly mentioned to her that there should be no need for the Warden to check the funds clearance from Cerberus—particularly, since the Illusive Man had made sure that the funds would be cleared prior to their arrival on the prison starship.

A cold, sinking feeling had settled rather uncomfortably in her stomach when she had "opened" the door to Out-processing; her instincts immediately told her that this was not a directional mistake.

"Go to hell," she spat back at the voice of the Warden over the intercom, "I'll send you there myself."

She was halfway towards unholstering her shotgun when—sure enough—she heard:

"Activate systems!"

Shepard knew that this 'package' they had been scheduled to pick up was quickly becoming more of a deadly hassle than it was worth. And if the approaching mechs and Blue Suns were any indication, she would be spending much more time than she absolutely wanted on the damnable starship. As the first shots rang out, Shepard's focus remained on getting her 'package' out of cryo and getting the hell off the ship.

Shepard found herself fighting through waves of Blue Suns mercs and various types of mechs to get to the cryo-stasis control room. When they got there, it was easy enough to charge at the technician and sink a satisfying slug into the shocked man's chest. From the control systems, Shepard could make out a rather large and formidable looking stasis pod chamber on the floor below, guarded by not one, but _three_ heavy mechs. Yet this was the 'package' they had come to retrieve, albeit under very different circumstances.

"If we hack that control, every door on the cell block opens," she heard Miranda's carefully disguised voice informing her to her right. Shepard knew the implications and the risk, but she hadn't come this far into hostile territory just to walk back out empty-handed.

"I'm doing it. Be ready."

As the rather large crane arm approached the stasis pod chamber to twist it out of its locked position, the three heavy mechs came on-line to decimate whatever came out of it. As the valves of the cryo pod opened to release its contained gas, the mechanical arm proceeded to pull the subject out of the containment cell to reveal...

"_That's_ Jack?"

Miranda's startled voice broke the thick silence that had permeated the room. Her voice rather accurately reflected Shepard's thoughts towards the human that had been freed from cryogenic stasis not moments before. As Shepard looked, she saw a thin woman of average height; tattoos covering nearly every inch of her upper torso, which was bare as it was, save a few pieces of a leather cuff that she wore. Her head was devoid of any hair, and as Shepard watched, the woman's eyes, once opened, were a terrible thing to behold—uncontrolled rage seemed to course through this woman's blood, thirsty to destroy everything in its path. By the time Shepard had realized that Jack had punched a hole through the near wall below as a means of escape, this woman—Jack, as the dossier called her—had reduced the three heavy mechs to nothing but spare metal parts with nothing but her fists and biotics. She was a fearsome creature, indeed.

As Shepard was slowly coming to her senses from the shock that rippled through the room, she heard Miranda's voice, "We _have_ to get down there quickly."

Seeing the destruction that one small woman had caused in such a short amount of time allowed Shepard a modicum of relief at the fact that this _Jack_ would be a most powerful addition to her team--_if_ they found her alive before security gunned her down. Fighting through waves of said security proved to be no easy feat, either; these Blue Suns mercs had been well-trained to any and all types of emergency protocols—including the escape of their most dangerous prisoner and the carnage that would come with it.

As Shepard and her team approached the penultimate room to the airlock, she stopped as she saw Warden Kuril on the far side of the room, perched upon a raised dais like some kind of undignified ruler. He had also protected himself with a powerful barrier, for which there were three security beams to override and destroy, if they had any chance of sending a successful bullet through his shields.

With Miranda providing cover fire, Shepard managed to charge from cover to cover, taking down the lieutenants with veiled difficulty. Mordin stayed at a safer distance behind Miranda, in order to give opposition numbers and their positions, as well as slowly taking down the security beams one at a time. As Shepard ducked down to quickly replace a spent heat sink, she heard Mordin coming through the comm with his staccato voice, except that in addition to his quick words, there was also panic:

"Shepard! Heavy mech closing in on your position at two o'clock! Advise moving _immediately!_"

Her blood ran cold; _how had she missed a heavy mech heading in her direction? _It must have been activated a short while ago, while she had been taking care of the other security. _Damn it! she thought; _disabling a heavy mech was typically done from afar, and with a heavier weapon at that. At this close range, using anything short of her shotgun would result in not only the mech's decimation, but _her_ death as well—a grenade or missile launcher was powerful in destroying heavily armed hostiles, but at close range, the missiles or grenades would explode on impact, killing everything in its vicinity.

Shepard had no choice as she yelled into her comm, "Mordin, use your plasma blast to eat away at his shields; Miranda, give me whatever cover you can. Go!"

As she jumped out of her current cover to quickly put distance between her and the approaching heavy mech, she couldn't stop the hiss that escaped her lips when she felt the mech's bullet rounds hitting her back. It had quickly depleted what was remaining of her shields and she now felt the familiar mixture of warm blood and the cooling medi-gel being dispensed into the wounds. She immediately knew how bad her wounds were when the blood loss that had happened in mere seconds left her feeling light-headed and dizzy.

As black started to dance around the edges of her vision, she saw the heavy mech rounding in on her current position. She knew Miranda and Mordin were doing all they can to whittle its shield and armor down quickly, but Shepard knew they would never be able to take it out with regular ordnances. At the range she currently held with the approaching mech, she would be able to take it down with one or two missiles, but the chances of her getting hit as collateral damage was...

Apparently Miranda was thinking along the same lines, as she saw Shepard take out her missile launcher. "Shepard! What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!" she yelled to Shepard through the comm.

"Miranda, this thing will kill all of us if it gets in range. I have to take my chances."

"Shepard, I did _not_ bring you back to life for you to throw it away so haphazardly!"

"We'll see when the smoke clears, Miranda."

Indeed the next thing she knew, Miranda was ducking fully under cover to protect herself from the flying bits of metal that used to be the mech. As she peered over, she saw a dark, charred bit of ground where the mech had stood not moments before, poised to kill Shepard. _Shepard!_ Her mind raced as she tried to look through the plume of smoke that was clearing very slowly in the unventilated chamber. Her eyes quickly sought out the body of the Commander, poised and ready for action as she always was. _Where was she?_ As her eyes moved from the charred ground over to the raised slab of metal that had formed Shepard's cover, she saw—

"Shepard!"

Miranda glanced over the room to see if there were any remaining guards to take care of. There were none except the Warden, who was still behind his damnable barrier. _Mordin had better get that last beam down soon_, she thought hurriedly. She ran towards Shepard's body and briefly checked for a pulse somewhere—anywhere—that would indicate that the Commander was alive.

_There!_ It was there, right by her jugular vein; but it was ever so faint—it seemed Shepard had been knocked unconscious by the blast of the missile, but was otherwise alive, though she would need extensive medical help soon, if they lingered here any longer. It looked as though she had lost massive amounts of blood and the medi-gel had done naught but thin out her blood a bit to lessen the bleeding somewhat. For now, the Executive Officer knew what she and Mordin had to do, and how quickly they needed to do it.

"Mordin, tell me you're getting that last beam down!" she yelled over the comm.

"In the process of disabling, Operative Lawson...there! Done."

As soon as the last shielding beam came down, the Warden was left vulnerable to all of Miranda's biotics and Mordin's tech abilities. Although lacking the precision of Shepard's aim, the bullets from Miranda's pistol still managed to find its target with relative ease. That, combined with Mordin's tech abilities made for a very quick fight against the now-dead Warden Kuril. As they approached the docking bay, Miranda radioed ahead:

"Normandy, this is Miranda, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Miranda."

"Shepard's in bad shape; make sure Chakwas is ready for her. We've taken care of Warden Kuril, and are attempting to locate Ja—"

She was cut off abruptly as they entered the docking bay and Miranda saw the subject of this unwarranted mission making painful work of the remaining security. As her last victim dropped to the ground, neck at a strange angle, she looked out the window to see a rather sizable frigate with an insignia of—

"Cerberus," the tattooed woman bit out hatefully. She failed to notice the guard behind her, as she exploded into a fit of such rage that could not possibly be housed in such a tiny form. Miranda aimed her pistol and shot the approaching guard in the head. _That_, it seemed, took the fugitive by surprise and brought her attention to Miranda.

"What the hell do you want?!" she demanded angrily. _Clearly, this one has a temper,_ Miranda thought wryly.

Miranda eyed the woman warily before answering, "You're in a bad situation and we're going to get you out of here."

"Shit, you sound like a pussy," she spat, pacing. "I'm not going _anywhere_ with you. You're _Cerberus_." _Ah, so that was it,_ Miranda realized. While the woman's tone and language greatly grated on her already wrought nerves, Miranda knew Shepard needed this woman on her team. She would do everything in her power to get Jack in Shepard's absence.

"We're here to ask you for your help," Miranda replied calmly.

"You show up in a _Cerberus_ frigate to take me away somewhere? You think I'm stupid?"

At that, Miranda looked over to the Normandy, and then over to where Mordin carefully held Shepard's limp and pale form in his arms. Miranda knew she was running out of time.

"This ship is going down in flames. We can get you to safety, and we're _asking_ for your help," Miranda reasoned.

"Look, you want me to come with you,_ make it worth my while."_

Miranda barely bit back a snarky retort before answering, "What are you thinking?"

"I bet your ship's got lots of Cerberus databases. I want to look at those files; see what Cerberus has got on me. You want me on your _team_," she mocked, "let me go through those databases."

"I'm not authorized to do that."

"Aw, does it upset the cheerleader that her beloved Cerberus secrets are going to come to light? I'm not going anywhere until you give me access to those files," Jack ended, with her arms crossed in a defensive posture.

Miranda knew that Shepard would have agreed to it without a second thought. But...the Illusive Man surely wouldn't want her to allow this..._Subject Zero_ to get her filthy hands on such sensitive material, would he? But then again, if she refused, Shepard was going to have one less powerful fighter on her team. She...she could just bluff and—no, that would never go well, especially if Jack was going to be aboard the Normandy. Who knew what damage this small woman could do? Not even in her research had she come across details regarding this Subject Zero. Miranda sighed; as Shepard's second-in-command, decisions always came with consequences. And she would be willing to face the particular consequences for this one, if it meant another successful recruit.

"I'll give you full access."

"You better be straight up with me," the woman hissed.

Miranda nodded in assent, secretly glad that she hadn't chosen to bluff.

"So why the hell are we standing here?"

–

After Jack had been successfully (or unsuccessfully, depending how one looked at it) integrated aboard the Normandy, Miranda headed to the med bay to check up on Shepard. While she knew the extensive cybernetics would have saved her from heavy structural or bone damage, the blood loss had been severe and Shepard had been placed under intensive care by the doctor. She vaguely remembered the face of Officer Vakarian as Miranda, Jack, and Mordin holding Shepard, had come back aboard; her knowledge of turian expressions were minimal, at best, but she could have sworn he wore a rather dark mask of something...painful when he saw the Commander. She would have to remind Shepard when she awoke.

"Ah, Operative Lawson. I was about to ask the AI to page you."

"What is the Commander's status, Doctor Chakwas?"

"She is stable, but still in critical condition. Unlike you, her regenerative abilities are like that of any other human; her recovery rate will be considerably slower. However, the good news is, that she _will_ make a full recovery, with no major function loss."

"Good to hear, doctor," she glanced at the door she had just walked through, "I'm going to check something with Joker and head back to my office. Please let me know if there are any noticeable changes."

"Of course, Operative Lawson."

Miranda left the med bay, making towards the lift to take up to the helmsman. She had a slightly off-putting feeling in her gut that could only be attributed to the pale-faced Commander lying unconscious in the med bay. _Why did she launch that missile?_ Miranda thought to herself, _she could have died! _Then again, compared to the likelihood of making it out of that damned starship alive if Shepard _hadn't_ brought out her heavy weapon, Shepard's choice now looked to have been the right one, _albeit with some heavy consequences, _Miranda thought ruefully. She would talk to the Commander about that when she awoke.

Her thoughts had led her to the pilot without her realizing.

"Operative Lawson," was the clipped greeting from the helmsman. She was certainly glad that he didn't indulge his rather crude humor at her expense—brittle bones or not, she would hurt him without batting an eyelash if he tried it.

"Joker, did Commander Shepard give you a queued destination after _Purgatory_?"

"Uh...yeah, she asked me to have flight vectors ready for the Citadel."

_The Citadel? What could Shepard possibly need from there? And so out of the way, too. _"Did she explain why?"

"Nope, she's the Commander—I don't really ask her why if she tells me to go somewhere. Unless, y'know, it's _hell_ or something. Oh, wait..."

She glared at him for his unwelcome comment, "If Shepard asked you prior to boarding the _Purgatory_, then she must've had a good reason to take us so far away from our other destinations. Proceed with her directions, Joker. I will ask her for clarification when she wakes."

"Yep, already en-route. Might want to get some shut-eye, Operative Lawson. Our ETA is standing at 28 hours and 43 minutes."

Miranda sighed and made her way back to her office. She had no time for "shut-eye" when she had mountains of reports to fill out.

**

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**

**Author's Note:**

Hokay! I hope you liked Purgatory! (heh heh heh) Anyway, I wanted to see what would happen if our illustrious second-in-command was _actually_ put in command, due to our lovable Shepard being injured. How did Miranda do? Was she bossy enough? I changed around the fights a little, and sort of breezed through the technical gunfights, because I wanted to focus on moving the plot forward, since I've been holding you guys out in limbo forever (...or...Purgatory...heeheehee. Please don't kill me).

I know there was a lot of abrupt scene/character point of view switches in this chapter. It's something I've seen done often in other stories, and something I'm experimenting with at the moment. What did you think? Was it too hectic or non-linear, or...? I want to know! Also, I giggled a lot when I wrote Joker's 'hell' joke towards the end. He's a funny guy. I wanted to give both Shepard and Garrus a fair amount of exposition after their last conversation, although it _just so happened_ that Garrus ended up working through some of his issues with the ship's AI. Yeah, I'm strange like that. Also, in regards to EDI's surveillance: while I'm aware that in the game, EDI explains that she does monitor just about everything on the ship, I thought it would be somewhat reasonable to assume that there would be _some_ limit to that surveillance. Unless, y'know, the Illusive Man is some creepster who enjoys watching the women (or men) shower nekkid (heh). I'm...very tired and my strangeness tends to show when I'm tired. But I like being tired because I know how great falling asleep will be. Er...yeah.

By the way, are any of you Bleach fans? Because if you are, and if you happen to be a fan of the GinxRan pairing, you must must _must _read Pull Down the World, by Yakaji and After War, by Renji's Girll. They are fantastically fantastic and will blow your mind away into little itty bitty pieces. I'm not joking; these guys are freaking awesome writers. It makes me feel like I'm doing a terrible injustice to them by even daring to post on the same website. For serious. Yeah. Anyway, if any of you are interested, check those out.

Aaaaand last but not least: Reviews! Please? Noms. I actually need them, because I need to know how some of the new incorporating things are working out, and whether or not you think the characters are well, _being themselves._ Let me know and you shall receive a cookie.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Bioware owns ME. Er...I mean Mass Effect.

_**

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**_

_**Chapter 10**_

_Shepard_.

His mind reeled at the sight of the impossibly pale and limp human body that was being carried by the salarian.

_What have I done?_

While he knew that this was ultimately not his doing, he couldn't help but feel that if he had been with her for that mission...if he had been the one watching her back and taking down targets from a distance, she would not be in this pitiful state right now.

_I'm so sorry_.

He knew that this wasn't his fault—nor would she want him to think such. However, had she died...

_I should never have said those things._

If she had died on the _Purgatory_, there was no telling what kind of reaction the Normandy crew would have seen. From the moment Shepard's voice came through to the Normandy, telling Joker about the betrayal and subsequent battle waged by the Warden, Garrus couldn't think or breathe properly until he knew for certain that Shepard was safe. For some reason, a feeling in his gut told him that if something were to happen to her, he would never forgive himself. Then again, he was not so arrogant to assume that Shepard's injuries had been the result of her being distracted from their earlier conversation. Garrus knew how Shepard worked—she would have forgotten about that during combat, in order to keep her mind clear to the present threat. But what he saw now, as the bloodied, limp form of the Commander was quickly being taken to the med bay, was _how had this happened?_

He slowly made his way back to the Main Battery, giving Chakwas enough time to do what was necessary to ensure Shepard's recovery. He would visit her later and—

_Wait,_ he thought, _would Shepard even want to see me? After what I said to her? _He knew they were already on their way to the Citadel for his drop-off, and there was no sign that Shepard had any inclination of rescinding his discharge. Would she ever want to talk to him again as friends after all that had happened?

He sighed and continued on his way, willing his mind to process that particular problem later, when he knew Shepard was awake. _Later_, he thought, _at the very least I want to apologize before I leave...again._

–

Bright, fluorescent lights and the sharp smell of antiseptic greeted her senses as she slowly drifted into consciousness. She soon regretted it, however, as she became increasingly aware of a dull, throbbing pain in her back that had nothing to do with being on the medical bed. Images of a heavy mech and the pain of bullets hitting her back soon flooded her mind, as she struggled to recollect what had brought her here.

_Here_, she thought with a jolt, _where was 'here'? _Was she back at the Cerberus facility? She strained her ears for the sound of gunshots and explosions as her heart began to race, but she found that there was only a gentle humming of a machine and the tell-tale sounds of someone or some_thing_ looking through datapads. She opened her eyes a millimeter more, and saw the familiar surrounding of the Normandy med bay. _Ah,_ so if she was in the med bay, then the person perusing through datapads was—

"Doctor Chakwas?" she croaked out.

"Ah, Commander, you're finally awake!" the doctor exclaimed, quickly making her way over to her patient as she took down some vitals. "Hm, it looks like your heart rate is unusually high and your pulse is getting higher as well. How are you feeling?"

"My back hurts," Shepard gritted out.

"Well, that's to be expected, after those injuries you received. Speaking of which, how ever did you manage to get such wounds? I've never had to treat you for bullet wounds on your _back_."

"I..." Shepard trailed off, trying to gather what little bits of information she could from her still-hazy memory. "I...there was a heavy mech, and I ran for better cover...far away..." There was a sudden rush of insight, as Shepard remembered exactly why she had been in that situation to begin with. She sat up abruptly and hissed; she quickly regretted the action, as the dull pain now escalated to a sharp one. "Ah—ouch, Doc, what happened to the convict—what happened to Jack? Did we get to her in time? Is she on the ship?"

"I do believe Operative Lawson saw to it that the woman was brought onto the ship under any circumstances," Doctor Chakwas replied.

_Under any circumstances? _"What do you mean?" Shepard queried, as the fear that Miranda had done something less-than ethical came to mind.

"I'm not entirely certain; she didn't give any details. But the woman—Jack, did you call her?— isn't harmed, as you can tell by the lack of her presence here," the doctor smiled.

Shepard paused at the doctor's words, as she thought of other ways Miranda would've employed to bring Jack on-board. She would check in with her XO when she got out of the med bay—there was no telling how much damage Jack would do if Miranda had already fallen into her bad graces. Speaking of which—

"Doc, am I cleared to go?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to stay a bit longer. Your vital signs are not reflective of your apparent recovery. I would appreciate it if you stayed for a few more hours so that I can be confident of your status, if that's alright with you, Commander?"

Shepard sighed as she laid back down. She didn't feel one-hundred percent herself right now, anyway; she would postpone her meeting with Miranda and Jack until she was sure she wouldn't collapse out of fatigue in front of them.

"If that's your professional opinion, who am I to argue?" she quipped to the doctor that had seen her through many worse injuries than this. The kind doctor answered her with a smile as she busied herself with the IV and Shepard's vital signs. For one reason or another, she had a nagging feeling in the back of her head that was telling her that she had forgotten something vitally important. Something...

"Joker!" she suddenly called to the intercom with a jolt, that followed with an even louder hiss as the pain in her back flared up again.

"Gah! Commander! Good to, uh, _hear_ that you're alright," her helmsman replied.

She smiled as she asked, "What's our status?"

"En-route to the Citadel like you said, Commander. ETA currently standing at 20 hours and 13 minutes."

_Garrus_. Her mind flew to the turian Gunnery Chief who was on his way to his drop-off as she she recalled their last interaction.

"That'll be all, thanks Joker. Let me know when we're an hour out."

"Will do, Commander."

As she settled back into the bed, her mind was buzzing with the sudden influx of thoughts and memories that came as she remembered Garrus. She _had_ been too harsh; after all, his vengeful nature was something she had been familiar with when they had been aboard the old Normandy. She had helped him then to overcome it, but somehow during her two-year absence, it looked as though everything that she had taught him then had been lost to his grief. She had also promised herself that she would be patient with him, which she also had neglected to do. She had let her emotions run awry and had let her military training take precedence over the fact that she had been talking to him as a friend. _I need to talk to him, _she thought, as she watched the doctor move around to her other side. _I need to let him know that I had acted brashly, and that his discharge was a mistake on my part._ She still had 20 hours until they reached the Citadel. She made up her mind to speak with Garrus before Miranda or Jack, as soon as the doctor released her. But for now, the dull pain in her back had slowly progressed its way to her throbbing head, as it called out for the peaceful respite of sleep.

–

Garrus tentatively made his way towards the med bay, after being notified from Chakwas that Shepard had awoken. With about 19 hours to go, he had to tell Shepard before he could finally resign himself to his fate. As he entered the med bay, he saw that she was asleep. He sighed; perhaps apologizing to a sleeping Shepard would be a little less nerve-wracking than apologizing to an awake one. And who knew when she would wake next? She probably had to check in with Operative Lawson and the new recruit before resuming her duties—now would be the only time he would get.

"Doctor," he nodded to her in greeting as he entered.

"Hello Garrus, come to check in on the Commander? I'm afraid she fell back asleep about an hour ago. Is something wrong?" she finished, as she saw his face.

"No," he answered.

"Very well, then." She paused, "Actually, now that you're here, do you mind keeping watch over her for a few minutes? I promised to let Operative Lawson know when the Commander woke up."

Blessing Chakwas for her impeccable timing, he agreed as he watched her exit the med bay. He looked over to the sleeping figure in the room and noted her unusual paleness, and the fact that she had been sweating, as indicated by the damp hair that stuck to her face. _Now or never, Garrus,_ instructed a voice in his mind, as he approached her bed.

"Shepard," he greeted.

He paused before continuing, "Listen Shepard, I—" _Damn it, why was this so difficult?_ "I apologize for what I said earlier. Losing my team to Sidonis affected me in ways I never knew until it was brought up, and I never should have threatened you—even as a friend." _She probably couldn't even hear this._

"After all the things you taught me, and after all the help you've given me, it was wrong of me to act as if none of that had ever happened. I was...I'm _still_...angry with what he did and I will never forgive him for it, but my actions towards you was uncalled for. I'm sorry." At that, something in his mind broke—all their past experiences together, all of the things she taught him finally came back in a flood of guilt, as he for the first time in a long time, understood what she had meant when she had told him:

"_You can't predict how people will act. But you_ can _control how you'll respond. In the end, that's what really matters."_

He was caught unaware by the sudden influx of thoughts and emotions that he was shocked into silence; his eyes were shut tightly, as he tried to will his mind to piece together everything that had been lost or covered by his need for revenge. _Oh God._

"Shepard," he began again, voice tightly laced with some of the emotion that was flowing through his mind, "Shepard, I'm sorry for everything. I know this won't fix anything, but I can't even begin to imagine the kind of pressure you're under, and I'm so sorry for unwittingly adding to it; I understand why you made the decision you did—I don't hate you for it. I understand. I'm just glad to see that you're alright..."

"Thank you, Garrus," a soft voice responded.

His eyes flew open at the sound, as he saw the smile of his only friend as she lay, pale-faced in the med bay.

"S-Shepard?" he inquired cautiously, not knowing if she had heard everything.

Another sleepy smile greeted him in response, as she opened her eyes to face him. _Her eyes_, Garrus thought, _her eyes, they...they seem different. Were they always so vivid?_

"Shepard, your eyes are green," he said without thinking.

She snorted in response, as he suddenly realized that he had said that aloud. "I-I mean, they...they just seem _more_ green now..." he trailed off, as his mind told him to stop while he was ahead.

She chuckled as she teased, "Well, that might be because of the current lack of color in my face, Garrus."

There was brief pause before she continued with a more serious tone in her voice, "Thank you for saying all those things, Garrus. I had actually planned on going to see you as soon as I woke up to tell you the exact same thing. Well, minus the Sidonis part, that is." She sighed, "I'm afraid I allowed my own frustration to get the best of me and let my military facade take over. I'm sorry for what I said, Garrus. And I'm sorry for forcing that discharge on you. I rescind it, but...if you would still like to leave, you're free to do so with my blessing. I...I know you wanted to apply for Spectre re-candidacy..." she trailed off, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Garrus' mind was reeling from what Shepard had said. _She_ was apologizing to _him._

"Shepard, why in the hell are _you_ apologizing? You've nothing to be sorry for!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, shut up, you stubborn bastard. It was just as much my fault as it was yours, and you know it. I've accepted your apology; do you accept mine?"

There were no words, as Garrus could do nothing but nod at his Commander—no, his friend.

As if on cue, Doctor Chakwas strode into the med bay, glancing over at the now-awake Commander. "Did you sleep well, Commander?"

"I did, Doc. And I feel like myself again. Can I go now?"

"Let me take a look at a few more things..." she replied, as she busied herself once more in checking vital signs and the wrappings on Shepard's back. Satisfied with her findings, she nodded at the Commander, as she returned to her desk to finish filing reports on Shepard's condition.

At the doctor's assent, Shepard rose from the bed, slipping her uniform back on over her bandaged torso. As she and Garrus walked out of the med bay together, Shepard remembered one thing that Garrus hadn't cleared up.

"Hey Garrus, so are you...are you planning to leave when we get to the Citadel?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not unless you ask me to, Shepard," came the reply.

She gave him a smile, bidding him back to the Main Battery; she would speak to him in more depth later. She knew that the situation with Garrus would not resolve itself until he was able to work through it properly. This time, however, she promised herself that she would approach him as a _friend_, and would be there to support him as such. For now, she needed to speak with Miranda regarding the conditions under which Jack had been brought on board.

Miranda looked up from the report she was writing up for the Illusive Man, as Shepard walked through.

"Commander, I'm glad to see that you're well, although I'd appreciate it if next time, you weren't so thoughtless in taking such a risk as the one you did. If you had died..."

"Glad to see you too, Miranda," Shepard answered wryly. "I just stopped by to check-in, and ask about our newest crew member." Shepard saw that Miranda tensed slightly at that. "Doctor Chakwas mentioned you had seen to it that Jack was brought aboard 'under any circumstances.' What did she mean by that?"

Miranda gazed at Shepard levelly before answering, "Jack wanted access to the files in the Normandy databases regarding Cerberus in exchange for her cooperation. I took a risk and gave her full access."

"You _what_?" Shepard asked incredulously. Compromising was hardly the right word to describe the woman sitting in front of her, yet Miranda had acted _exactly_ as Shepard would have. "I—that's good to hear, Miranda. You did what I would've done. Good work," Shepard offered. _Was that a smile on Miranda's face?_ "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Not at the moment, Commander, though I am curious to know why we're headed for the Citadel. I know from your dossiers we don't have anyone to recruit there..." Miranda asked.

"Oh, that. I, uh, needed to pick up some supplies for Rupert. He managed to convince me that having a nice meal once in a while would put everyone in better spirits in the long run," Shepard answered almost immediately. She hoped that Miranda wouldn't question her further, although it wasn't really a _lie_, per se. Just...a change of plans.

"So we're traveling out of our way to..._pick up food supplies?_ Shepard, you do realize that Cerberus has stocked the ship with more than enough supplies, right?"

"I'm aware, Miranda, but when was the last time you had a meal that didn't leave an unwelcome aftertaste in your mouth?"

"I...I suppose I see what you mean, although I don't understand why we had to do this _now_..." Miranda trailed off.

Shepard shrugged, "Better now than later, I suppose. Anyway, where is Jack staying? I should properly introduce myself."

Miranda scoffed at that, "Better you than me. She's on the lower deck, below Engineering. She...was very adamant about staying somewhere that would be difficult to find."

"Ah, well, this ought to be fun, then. Thanks again, Miranda," Shepard offered as she made her way out and towards the lift. _Perhaps I misjudged Miranda's leadership abilities_, Shepard mused to herself as she thought back to how Miranda had handled the situation. _Perhaps she isn't the 'ice queen' that everyone thinks her to be. _

Shepard made her way down the stairs that would lead her to the lower cargo hold below the Engineering deck. As her foot reached the last step, she was greeted with a cheery voice,

"What hell do _you_ want?"

Oh this would be _fun_, indeed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hoohah! Chapter 10, kiddies! Can you believe it? We're at double-digit chapters now! I'm so excited! Well, here is the resolution to what happened on the _Purgatory_, and the psuedo-resolution to Shepard and Garrus' conversation from before. I'm not going to lie, when Miranda asked Shepard why they were going to the Citadel, Shepard answered as quickly as I would have, with the same answer. I thought that was cool.

Let me know what you thought of the pseudo-resolution!

Also, if you noticed that Miranda is a lot more present in this story, that is completely intentional. I wanted to give Miranda's character a little more benefit of the doubt; I initially didn't like her, but as I went through the game, I slowly came to realize that there's a lot more to Miranda than what meets the eye. As a result, I wanted to incorporate a little of that into the story.

Keep the reviews coming, please! I love all of your reviews, and I try to respond to each and every one as soon as I can, to let you know _exactly_ how much I appreciate them. I even have little goodies prepared for my reviewers! :D

Next up: A trip to the Citadel! Whaaaaat can possibly happen? :)


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Bioware.

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Chapter 11**_

The talk with her newest team member, Jack, proved to be more frustrating than developmental. It seemed to be that Jack had a critical distrust for everyone, claiming that anyone who talked to her always wanted something back in return—usually her biotics. Jack was undoubtedly very powerful, but Shepard wondered how well that power could be controlled in stressful situations like the one they would be facing soon. She made a mental note to check in with the aggressive biotic regularly, lest the woman find herself bored enough to cause mayhem aboard the ship.

With more than 15 hours to go until they reached the Citadel, Shepard decided to take some time to get to know her crew better—or at the very least, get a couple of laughs from her beloved pilot. From the moment they had spoken about his Vrolik's Syndrome and his proven skills as a helmsman, Shepard had seen Joker as the younger brother she never had. Having him pilot the current Normandy just seemed..._right; _that was one thing she would not hold against the Illusive Man. Regardless of whether or not he used Joker as a betting chip, Shepard's feeling of unease had slowly lifted when she had heard the humorous voice of the one whose safety she had personally seen to, two years ago. She cared for him in a filial way, and always made sure that his fun-loving personality and charisma never dimmed. In return, he had treated her with the respect and dignity of a commanding officer and big sister. It was a gloriously beneficial symbiotic relationship.

As she approached the base of said helmsman, it seemed he had either known or figured only she would visit, if his greeting was any indication:

"Commander, we really need to get you a new hobby. I don't think collecting crazy biotics and bloodthirsty krogan is a healthy habit."

"Nice to see you too, Joker," Shepard chuckled.

"What's up, Commander?"

"Not much at the moment. What's our current ETA?"

"Uh, you mean since you asked 30 minutes ago? You must _really_ love the Council if you want to see them that badly. Why don't you send them a Christmas card or something? I'm sure it's Christmas...somewhere in the galaxy. And it's the thought that counts anyway," he winked.

"Alright, alright, I get your point. I assume everything is going well up here?"

"We were just having an argument over personalization of my workspace," he replied, nodding towards the AI, which was situated next to Joker on the pilot deck.

"Cerberus regulations are clear, Mr. Moreau. _Personalization_ does not include grease on my bridge cameras," EDI responded, a hint of irritation in its voice.

Joker chuckled, "It's just mad that all its footage of me looks like a dream sequence. "

Shepard smiled appreciatively at the almost friendly banter that was being exchanged regularly by the ship's AI and helmsman.

"I see, well maybe EDI just wants to see all of your dashing good looks in clarity, Joker," Shepard joked.

"I want nothing of the sort, Shepard. The bridge cameras are crucial in recording Mr. Moreau's actions and performance in piloting the Normandy. It contains data that is useful to the Illusive Man," the AI replied.

"Ugh, Commander, c'mon! Did you _really_ have to go there? What if it watches me as I pee? 'Useful to the Illusive Man,' indeed. Gross," Joker spluttered.

"How did you manage to get grease on its bridge cameras anyway, Joker?"

"It is very simple, Shepard. Mr. Moreau decided it would—" the AI was deftly muted by Joker, as he sheepishly finished its reply, "—would be none of your concern, Commander. Really! I uh...it's...nothing."

"Joker....?"

"Really! You, uh, don't want to know."

Shepard quirked an eyebrow, indicating that she expected a full explanation later.

"Well, I see you made good use of its mute function," she mentioned.

"Yeah..." he sighed happily. "It's so nice and quiet without it reminding me that 'the airlock is ajar.' It's too bad that the mute has a time limit," he sulked.

"Well, the Illusive Man probably figured that you would get bored just talking to yourself all the time—," she replied.

"Hey, my interstellar combat noises are awesome!" he interjected. "I'd like to see how realistic _your _space laser sounds are! Besides, I have to do _something_ to keep myself from getting bored enough to experiment on how many different ways I can break my fingers."

"Uh huh," Shepard replied, amused.

"Anyway, I gotta hit the head, Commander. Are we done for now, or do I have to use the bottle I keep under here?"

She smiled, "That's all for now, Joker. It was nice talking to you."

–

As Shepard settled back into her cabin, she couldn't help but wonder about the incredibly eclectic mix of crew members she currently had on the ship. Something in her gut told her that it wouldn't end there, either. She made to sit at her desk to look over the remaining dossiers, when she glanced over to her aquarium which was currently devoid of any life form. _Why place an aquarium without any fish_? Shepard wondered to herself. The design of the cabin was much more spacious and luxurious than the previous Normandy, although the construction crew had missed a memo, or just had a strange sense of humor in installing an empty aquarium _and_ an empty glass case.

She thought back to the flurry of conversations she had had with some of the crew. Mordin revealed to her that he had been on the team that had developed the altered genophage. That came as a shock to Shepard, seeing as how she didn't think Mordin would be capable of such actions. She had no definitive view on the genophage itself—she was a marine after all—interspecies politics were of very little interest to her. Still, she was curious to expand her knowledge on the issue and Mordin was more than willing to indulge that curiosity.

Her conversation with Jacob had been much more limited in that respect; they had briefly spoken on his service in the Alliance, prior to joining Cerberus. It had been a relief for her to find out that he trusted the Illusive Man no more than she did, although it was still evident that his attitude was still somewhat standoffish, albeit slightly starstruck. She was not a celebrity by any means, nor did she consider herself such. But to individuals such as Jacob, or that Conrad Verner (she cringed at the memory of him), her actions seemed to have spoken louder than her words; in hindsight, it was something Shepard sorely regretted.

She had gotten to know the crew a little better, although it was becoming increasingly more difficult for her to see all of them working _together_ to take down such an opposition as the Collectors. She knew from experience that if they even had the slightest chance of getting out of this alive, the entire crew would need to place vast amounts of trust in each other, and be able to perform as a well-oiled machine. Individually, each of her crew members were incredibly powerful in their own right. However, when put on such a high-performing team, she knew there would be very little room for ego and personal recognition. Shepard wondered if they would be sufficiently ready when the time came.

As her thoughts began to travel down a darker, more depressing route, Shepard rose from her desk and decided to speak with Garrus. With several more hours to go until they reached their destination, she figured now was as good of a time as any to speak to him and get to know him in more detail—especially given some of the darker changes to his once playful personality.

As she made her way down the walkway towards the Main Battery, the doors slid open, as if anticipating her arrival.

"Shepard," Garrus greeted her. "Need me for something?"

"I wanted to talk, do you have a few minutes?"

He looked over to what he had been working on, and nodded to himself, satisfied with what he saw. "Sure, I just finished a week's worth of calibration for the new cannons. They pack _quite_ a punch, but are dreadfully difficult to maintain...kind of like you," he finished with a smirk.

"Laugh it up, Garrus," Shepard chuckled. "Just because human skin isn't as thick or protective like a turian's doesn't mean we're less versatile in combat."

_This feels so natural,_ Shepard thought to herself, _I feel as though I'm talking to the old Garrus._

"Anyway, what's on your mind, Shepard?" he asked.

"I know we...talked earlier, but I just wanted to check-in and see how you were doing," she replied.

"Ah. Well, I appreciate the thought, Shepard, although I would hate to see you doing something purely out of duty," he replied quietly.

"What? No, it's not because of _duty_ that I come to talk to you, Garrus. We're friends, remember?" she paused. "...right?"

He nodded, unable to say anything else at such an honest statement.

"I don't know how turian relationships are structured, but for humans, friendship means that I come to talk to you because I want to, not because I have to."

_She's...this woman, _he thought incredulously, _this woman is...is a gem. "_Thank you, Shepard, that...means a lot to me," he answered quietly. "I never really had many... _friends_, per se. Father's acquaintances, yes. But no real friends. My childhood mainly consisted of military doctrine and training. Very little time for fun or innocence."

_What was it about her that makes me want to divulge my secrets and past memories? _he wondered.

"What about you, Shepard? I bet you had lots of friends growing up."

Shepard thought back for a moment before answering, "I had friends, sure; or at least the children of other parents who were in the Alliance military. I was a spacer kid, with no real foundation of _home_. My home has always been on various ships and vessels. As such, I grew up considering whoever was on these ships to be my friend."

"I see," came the quiet reply. Both of them fell into a comfortable silence, thinking back and reminiscing. Garrus was the one to break the silence first:

"Shepard, did your parents raise you to be so forgiving?"

That took her by surprise. "What?"

"You...you are very forgiving—towards me, and even towards your enemies. Was that something your parents imbued in you?"

"Hm, I suppose so. My father, moreso than my mother, oddly enough. My father always used to tell me that mercy and punishment were sometimes one and the same."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he used to explain to me that showing mercy to someone you were about to kill, may sometimes end up being a rightful punishment for them. Some people commit grievous crimes, hoping that they die soon after. In killing these types of criminals, you're actually preventing them from understanding the horror of their crimes. In letting them live—that is, by showing mercy—you've forced them to live and perhaps atone for their mistakes." She paused before continuing, "Obviously it's not fail-safe. There are some people—like Dr. Saleon—who you end up having to kill anyway, even after offering them a way for atonement."

Garrus listened quietly, allowing her words to sink in. This was an entirely new concept to him; he had never actually understood the concept of mercy until now. However...

"What about those people to whom you can't show mercy? Those who you feel need to die in order to atone for their mistakes?" he asked.

"Then it becomes a moral choice, Garrus. Do you kill them first, and then decide later whether or not their deaths actually did atone for their mistakes, or do you let them live and allow them the chance? Obviously both have their unique consequences. With the former, if you come to the decision that their deaths did _not_ make up for their actions, there is a level of guilt you must live with. With the latter, if you let them live and they show no inclination towards correcting for their mistakes, then you must live with the regret of _not_ having killed them."

"Shepard, how does that make sense? It's a lose-lose situation!" Garrus exclaimed.

"Of course it is," she calmly stated. "But when you've been doing this for long enough, you come to realize that regardless of what you do, there will be _some_ guilt or regret involved; no one gets out of combat or wars without scars. The important thing is that that guilt or regret is overshadowed by your belief that _you did the right thing_. And I don't mean something that you rationalize to be the right thing just to make yourself sleep better at night; I mean that you feel it _in your gut_ that you did the right thing. That line of thinking has gotten me this far."

Garrus remained silent, thinking carefully about what Shepard had just said. It seemed so foreign to him, this concept of _mercy_ or _atonement_. He began to slowly question himself regarding some of the choices he had made in his past. Perhaps Shepard was right in some respect...

"Of course, I could be completely wrong," she added as an afterthought with a small quirk of her lips.

"_What?! _What do you mean, you could be completely wrong? Then what was all that talk for?"

"That's just what my father used to tell me, and something that I adopted very early on; I'm not saying its the be-all, end-all of everything. And I'm most certainly not dictating how _you_ should act by any means. You asked a question, and I thought it would be fair to give you a complete answer," she smiled.

Garrus nodded his understanding. Even though Shepard thought she may be wrong in some context, there was definitely an underlying philosophy that contradicted his own—something that made him think about himself and his actions a little more carefully.

"So was the blue your choice?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" came his confused reply.

"The blue. On your armor. Was it your choosing?" She smiled as she added as an afterthought, "I thought maybe we should move away from the heavier topics for now."

_She smiles a lot_, he noticed appreciatively. He also noticed that her smiles lit up her face—it was a very calming sight to behold.

"Oh. Yes, the color choice of the armor was mine. I thought it would complement my plating and eyes nicely," he answered seriously.

At that, Shepard burst into laughter which quickly dissipated when she saw that he had been serious. "Oh, you were serious! Sorry, Garrus," she apologized sheepishly. "I just...I just never expected _you_ of all people to care about aesthetics."

"Well why shouldn't I?" came his huffed reply. "A fighter though I am, I still retain the ability to appreciate the finer things in life. For example, remember back on Omega? The day you came for me, there was another merc—looked like a freelance—with armor the shade of a horrific green. I nearly balked when I saw it."

"Oh! Him! I saw him! I think he was one of Cathka's assistants or something," she exclaimed happily. "I did give his armor a passing though, if I remember correctly. It was rather hideous."

At that, they both gave a few chuckles that reflected the comfort that each found in the other's presence. Garrus also couldn't help but noticed that when she laughed, her eyes shifted color. He mentioned this to her.

"Oh really?" came her startled reply. "I never noticed, although I'm a little confused as to what you mean by 'shifted color'."

"Ah, they don't _change_ color, necessarily. They just sort of...become a shade darker, I suppose," he clarified. _And they're very nice, too_, he added in his mind.

"Oh, I see," she replied, a faint tinge of pink gracing her cheeks. _How did he notice that my eyes change when I laugh?_

"Shepard, are you alright? You look like you're developing a fever or something."

"What? Oh, it's nothing; happens all the time."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's because..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain human blushing, and most certainly not wanting to explain exactly why she had blushed just then. _This is strange_.

"It happens when...there is an excess of stimuli coming in and...you become overwhelmed..." she replied hesitantly. _That is a terrible response!_ she chided herself. "Ah, never you mind; it's difficult to explain."

Garrus looked at her strangely before turning around to take another glance over the algorithms he had been working on. Everything seemed to be in order, except...

"Damn it," he quietly hissed to himself.

"What?"

He sighed, "I overlooked something when plotting approachable trajectories and speed in the algorithms. I'm sorry, Shepard, but it looks like I have to redo two days worth of work. Can we continue this conversation later?"

"Oh, of course; I'll let you work. It was really nice talking to you again, Garrus," she smiled as she made her exit.

As the door slid shut behind her, Shepard thought to herself that for the most part, their conversation went well; she hoped that he would give some thought to what she had told him before. On the other side of the door, Garrus' mind went over everything Shepard had discussed with him, and he was slowly beginning to realize what she had meant when she explained her philosophy to him. He hoped that he would somehow be able to live up to at least half of it in the time remaining.

While both of their minds carefully mulled over their talk, neither of them could figure out what had happened near the end of their conversation.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

You will have noticed that this chapter was somewhat different than the others. I just figured since all of you fantastic readers have kept up with me through 10 chapters of plot development, that I should give you a little break to enjoy something a little different. That, and I figured now was the ideal time, since they still have a few more hours before they reach the Citadel. Let me know what you thought of this chapter. If you liked it, I'll make sure to include more like it in future chapters.

I wanted to give Joker a little more stage time, as well as further develop the friendship and emerging relationship between Garrus and Shepard. Please tell me what you thought of Garrus and Shepard's conversation--especially towards the end. I know it's emerging slowly, but I figured that with the characters as they were represented in the game and in this story, a slow emergence of a relationship would be the truest one. I also wanted to give you guys a little more insight as to _who_ Shepard is as a person, and as a trained N7 marine. I'm not sure if the conversation does her any justice, but I figured that a Paragon-geared Shepard would have principles that were very similar to what I had written. While I do share some views with Shepard, I did not incorporate much of my personal opinion into her explanation, so if you happen to disagree with anything, you can take it up with her, though I tried to keep it as neutral as possible. But let me know what you thought, please. :)

Other than that, the Normandy _will_ be reaching the Citadel in the next chapter, and we'll see where things go from there. Oh, by the way, Joker's 'space laser' reference is to the 'pew pew' sounds he makes when you stand next to him long enough without engaging him in conversation. It's hilarious and rather good.

Hokay, so there is a button that says 'Review.' Do it. Failure to do so will result in you sitting in an enclosed room with EDI. FOREVER.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Bioware

_**

* * *

Chapter 12**_

"Citadel Control, this is the Normandy SR-2 requesting permission to land."

"Stand by for clearance, Normandy...Clearance granted. You may begin your approach. Please proceed to dock 7-2-5."

"Copy that, Citadel Control. Normandy out."

–

The Zakera Cafe on the 27th level of the Zakera Wards proved to be the main source of ingredients that had been requested by the Mess Sergeant. While there, Shepard indulged herself by browsing the goods in some of the more lucrative shops. Fortunately, her Spectre status also helped in securing minor discounts from the merchants at the various kiosks. While she hardly lacked for credits, it never hurt to offer a small endorsement in exchange for lower priced goods.

When she was sure that enough time had passed in order for a trip to the Citadel to have been justified, Shepard headed back to the docking bay. As she entered the airlock chamber and waited for de-pressurization, there was a slightly uneasy feeling that was quickly settling in her stomach. Her worries were soon substantiated as she came face to face with an anxious turian.

Garrus was pacing by the airlock chamber, and was doing so in a manner that made even Joker shift uncomfortably in his plush leather seat.

"Shepard," he bit out, "Sidonis is here."

"Here? On the Citadel?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. One of my old contacts got in touch with me while you were ashore. There's a specialist on the Citadel; name's Fade. He's an expert at helping people disappear. Sidonis was seen with him."

Shepard turned a scrutinizing eye towards the still-pacing turian, which gave her a pause before replying. Garrus' entire countenance had shifted abruptly in the last few hours. Gone was his gentle gaze, only to be replaced with the eyes she had seen on Omega. No, it was different. Somehow, this time around, they reflected a muted anger that was lightly veiled by something darker, more sinister. Finally she spoke,

"What are you planning to do when you find him?"

"You humans have a saying: "an eye for and eye." His expression shifted, "A life for a life. He owes me ten lives, and I plan to collect."

"Garrus, are you sure that's how you want to play it? Did you think this through?"

"I'm sure, Shepard," he answered almost too certainly. "I don't need you to agree with me, but I'd like your help."

_So he still wants revenge that badly_, thought Shepard. After their talks, it seemed as though Garrus hadn't heard a word of it; his mind was too cluttered with thoughts of killing Sidonis. Finally, she replied, "Do you know where we can find this 'Fade'?

"Yes. I've arranged a meeting with him through Bailey. We'll meet him in a warehouse near the Neon Markets, down on Zakera Ward."

Shepard knew Bailey well—he had saved her an exorbitant amount of time by updating her status in the Citadel systems. He was also surprisingly well-connected when it came to the criminal world. She wasn't surprised that Garrus had been able to secure a meeting through him.

"Alright Garrus. Suit up and meet me here." She turned to the holographic blue sphere next to Joker, "EDI, please tell Jack to suit up—"

She was quickly cut off by Garrus, who now stood in-between herself and the AI console, "—_Jack?" _he growled. "Shepard, I don't need anyone else knowing about this situation—too many people know about it already. I would very much like to keep this between us; quick, clean, and simple. I don't need that crazed biotic to hold something like this over my head later."

Shepard gave him a pointed look before continuing, "Garrus, I understand where you're coming from, but knowing our combined luck, there's a very likely chance that this will be _far_ from 'quick, clean, and simple'. Besides, I need to get Jack integrated into the team and see her in combat; she won't be a problem. Please trust me on this one."

Garrus looked away, "Fine," he responded as he left for the Armory.

"Shepard?" prompted the AI.

"Yes, EDI, the order still stands—tell Jack to suit up with her weapons and meet me here."

"Understood."

–

"So...which one of you wants to disappear?"

"I'd rather see you make someone _reappear._"

"Ah...that's not the service we provide."

"Make an exception. Just this once."

The unmistakable sound of his gun and the sound of a trigger ready to be pulled were the only things that were heard in the quiet of the warehouse. Shepard glanced sharply to Garrus, watching as he leveled the gun to the volus' head.

The rotund figure of the volus sighed through his mask, "Why do I even bother?"

The volus' heavy, rhythmic breathing reflected rather accurately the palpable tension in the air. Shepard felt it, Garrus felt it; even _Jack_ felt it—it was undeniably there. As soon as the doors to the warehouse had slid open, Shepard knew that the turian standing to her right was no longer the pensive, calm Garrus she had spoken with just hours before. This was a Garrus whose frame was rigid with tension, and whose muscles seemed to be taut, not with ligaments or tendons, but with barely suppressed rage. Jack shifted uncomfortably to Shepard's left, betraying the slight apprehension that was felt by everyone in the room.

"What the fuck..." she hissed to herself.

Shepard glanced over to the thin, tattooed woman to her left, and then back to the rather formidable-looking turian to her right. "You alright, Garrus?" she quietly asked.

"Fine," came the curt reply.

The volus in front of them—'Fade'—shifted in his bio-suit. For some reason, Shepard was not yet convinced that they were speaking to the right person. Her next statement broke the deafening silence that had slowly descended on the room:

"We're looking for someone. A client of yours."

The volus was startled by that, as he began to speak as quickly as his suit would allow him. "Not mine! I'm not Fade. I just work for him...sort of."

_Ah._ "I knew it," Shepard replied mostly to herself.

"Well then maybe you'd like to tell us where to find him," came Garrus' cold reply.

"Y-yes. Of course. He's in the factory district, works out of the old prefab foundry."

"I know the place," Garrus murmured to Shepard.

The volus continued, "Uh...he's got a lot of mercs there...Blue Suns. Harkin thinks they're protecting him."

Garrus stilled at the mention of the name. "_Harkin_?" he growled out. "Bastard. He's using C-Sec to help those business scum."

"No, no, no. Well...not _really_. He got fired from C-Sec a while ago. But he still knows the systems."

Shepard vaguely remembered the face of a man, heavily inebriated and rather crude, sitting off to the side of the ill-reputed Chora's Den. He had been unshaven, eyes half-shut by the sheer amount of alcohol he had consumed; an overall thoroughly unpleasant picture.

"Interesting," came Garrus' reply. "But it changes nothing, We still need to find him before we can get to Sidonis."

–

Shepard's memory of the man named Harkin was quickly replaced by an even more repulsive looking man, balding with beady eyes that shone bright with corruption and fear. As their cab landed by the entrance to the prefab foundry, Harkin looked up, eyes widening to an impossible degree before he bit out a name.

"_Shepard?!_"

Panicked, he looked to his guards as he yelled, "Don't just stand there, stop them. Stop them!"

As Harkin rushed inside, Shepard heard a rough voice, filled with an unbelievable amount of spite and rage:

"_Run all you want, Harkin, we'll find you!"_

It took Shepard half a moment to realize that the voice belonged to Garrus, although further thought on the subject was soon halted, as the hired mercenary guards began their assault. As she dove for the nearest cover behind some unmarked crates, she felt what seemed like an earthquake rumble beneath her feet, heading quickly towards the mercs in front. She traced the shockwave back to its origin and was shocked that it had come from the tattooed biotic standing behind her, with a blood-thirsty craze in her eyes. _She really is incredibly powerful,_ Shepard thought to herself. She filed that away in her mind for perusal later, as the guards went down fairly quickly.

Harkin had his base of operations full to the brim with security—mechs and Blue Suns were crawling everywhere, and Shepard was having a difficult time of keeping the sweat out of her eyes. The internal cooling system of her enviro-suit had been unable to keep up with the amount of action she had been taking for the last two hours, and Shepard had to raise the visor on her helmet in order to let the natural air cool her face. They had been under fire for the better part of the last hour, and the hour prior to that had been spent trying to maneuver their way around the foundry. It was difficult to imagine why Harkin needed such a large space to run such a compact service.

They finally entered a room, whose window shutters had been closed. Shepard spied the control module and overrode the security, opening the shutters for a better view of what lie in the room ahead. There were a few questions that had been mulling around in the back of her head. She decided to voice them now, before the proverbial shit hit the unfortunate fan.

"You worked with Harkin at C-Sec?"

"Yeah, he was a pain in the ass back then, too," came Garrus' quiet reply. "But I'm in no mood for his games. If he doesn't cooperate, I'll beat him within an inch of his life."

This worried Shepard; they were going after Sidonis, not Harkin. As unpleasant of a character Harkin was, she had never heard Garrus promise to take such extreme actions against anyone.

"Garrus, you're getting tense."

"Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear. If so, he knows why were here and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off."

It made sense, but Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that the malice behind his words meant something more.

"What exactly are you going to do to Harkin if he won't cooperate?" Shepard asked warily.

"He's a real criminal now. Working for the Blue Suns. I should just shoot him on sight," he spat. "But I need him alive, so I won't do any permanent damage. Just enough to loosen his tongue." He said the last part with a barely concealed smile in his voice, which put Shepard on edge.

"You don't need to hurt him to get what you want, Garrus," she started.

"Don't worry. Harkin's a coward. He'll talk long before I can really hurt him."

_There_. The malicious gleam in his eyes had reappeared, this time with a flaring vengeance.

"Garrus, are you still planning to kill Sidonis when we find him?" she asked quietly.

"That's the plan. It'll be quick and painless. Unlike everyone he betrayed, he'll be spared the agony of a slow death," he responded. "It's more than he deserves, but as long as he's dead, I'll be satisfied." There was a deadly calm to his voice—something unlike anything Shepard had ever heard from him before. She took a step back and asked again,

"Garrus, do you really think killing Sidonis will make things right?"

"I'm surprised you'd ask me that, Shepard. You were the one that taught me killing was the best solution," he responded angrily.

Shepard froze. Is _that_ what he had taken away from their talks? That killing was the best solution? "Garrus, I _never_ taught you that. I told you that killing was the best solution _only when there's no other option_. You still have options."

"Maybe, but this is _personal_," he spat.

"Garrus, how can you say that? After what I told you about the consequences of your decisions?"

"_I'll_ pull the trigger, and _I'll_ live with the consequences."

This time it was Jack that responded: "Tch. That's some big talk, Vakarian. You think you can handle that?"

Garrus' retort died on his lips when both he and Shepard noticed movement in the next room out of the corner of their eyes.

Shepard sighed, "Come on, Harkin's getting ready for us. We'll talk about this later. Move out."

The next room that they entered was a storage facility, and on the other side of the room, they could make out the silhouette of the man they had seen when they first landed in front of the foundry. The mercs in this room were mostly lieutenants, and the mechs themselves were considerably harder to get through. As they slowly made their way through the waves of mercs and mechs, Shepard was surprised that Jack seemed to respond well when given orders for coordinated movement, despite her rather volatile temper. The biggest surprise came when they neared the opposite end of the room. Shepard was replacing the now useless heat sink when she heard Garrus over her comm:

"Two heavy mechs incoming!"

_Shit. _The memory of what had happened last time still fresh in her mind, Shepard unholstered her new heavy weapon—the Arc Projector. Developed by Cerberus and sent to the Normandy's armory, the projector had a charge up time of two seconds, but was ruthlessly efficient when the electricity hit a synthetic enemy. That, combined with Garrus' ability to overload the mech's core circuitry from a distance, resulted in two kills in record time.

As Shepard and Jack made their way up the stands and crates towards the main control room, Garrus went around the back, effectively blocking off any means of escape Harkin would consider.

"You were close, but not close enou—!" Harkin grunted, as Garrus strode through the entrance he had been backing into. There was a swift snap, as the sound of Garrus' pistol colliding with Harkin's nose rang in the room. He grabbed Harkin by the collar and pinned him against the back wall with his arm.

"So, _Fade_," he taunted, "couldn't make yourself disappear, huh?"

"Come on, Garrus—we can work this out. Whaddaya need?" came Harkin's sickeningly saccharine voice.

"I'm looking for someone," Garrus responded.

"Well, I guess we both have something the other wants."

At that, a swift kick to the groin from Garrus sent Harkin sliding down the wall, doubled over in pain.

"You helped a friend of mine disappear. I need to find him," said Garrus, never taking his eyes off the man crumpled on the floor.

Harkin stood up shakily. "I might need...a little more information than that."

"His name was Sidonis. Turian, came from the—"

"I know who he is," said Harkin, recognition dawning on his face, "and I'm not telling you squat."

Shepard spoke, "Harkin, this doesn't have to be hard."

"Screw you." He looked over to Garrus, "I don't give out client information. It's bad for business," he sneered.

Garrus' ever-loosening hold on his temper snapped, as he gave another swift kick—this time to Harkin's diaphram, knocking out his breath. Harkin fell to the ground again, as Garrus placed an armored foot at the base of Harkin's throat.

"You know what else is bad for business?" he softly asked Harkin, "A broken neck."

The venom in Garrus' voice was undeniable; it was there, along with his quiet rage and cold fury. For the first time since they had entered the room, Shepard saw a flicker of fear flash in Harkin's eyes.

"All right! All right! Get off me!" cried Harkin, as his breath came in shorter gasps. Garrus' eyes, now blazing with uncontrollable anger, fixed on Harkin as he slowly put moved his foot upwards, blocking off more and more of Harkin's windpipe. Alarmed at seeing that the face of their only source of information was quickly turning a nasty shade of purple, she pushed Garrus away forcibly, earning herself a bone-chilling glare from the turian.

As Harkin gasped for air, he bit out, "Terminus really changed you, huh, Garrus?"

"No," came the reply, "but Sidonis...opened my eyes. Now arrange a meeting."

Harkin limped over to the communications console and radioed out the frequency for Sidonis' comm. A quick, falsely reassuring conversation later, he turned back around to Garrus.

"It's all good. He wants to meet you in front of Orbital Lounge. Middle of the day." He paused, getting a different glint in his eyes, "So...if our _business_ is done, I'll be going..." Before Harkin could take another step, he had been pulled up roughly by his collar, as Garrus bit out, "I don't think so. You're a criminal now, Harkin."

Again, Shepard saw the fear in Harkin's eyes, this time a little more pronounced. "So what...you're just going to kill me? That's not your style, Garrus," he spit out frantically.

Both he and Harkin exchanged a dark look, as something registered in Garrus' mind. "Kill you? No. But I don't mind slowing you down a little," he growled as he aimed his gun for Harkin's leg.

Shepard shoved his arm, right in time for the bullet to miss Harkin's leg and ricochet off the ceiling. "You don't need to shoot him," she warned. "He won't be able to hide from C-Sec now."

The look on Garrus' face was murderous; he jostled his arm out of her grasp as he turned back to Harkin: "I guess its your lucky day."

"Yeah. I hope we can do this again _real_ soon," came the sarcastic reply. At that, Garrus darted forward to slam his plated head against Harkin's, resulting in a loud grunt from the latter.

"I didn't shoot him," was his reply, as they made their way back out.

–

On their way to the meeting point, the disquiet in the cab was nearly palpable. So much so that Jack spoke up from the back seat:

"Lower your hackles, Vakarian. You're pissing me off."

Garrus merely shot her a disinterested glance as he growled, "Harkin's a bloody menace. We shouldn't have just let him go. He deserved to be punished."

At the word 'punished' Shepard couldn't help but voice her rising concern. "I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus. You were pretty hard on Harkin."

He looked over to her, "You don't think he deserved it?"

"It's just not like you."

He paused, unable to formulate words into a coherent sentence. A part of him was tired—tired of hunting for Sidonis; the other part was thirsting for the revenge he so rightfully deserved. Garrus was torn on all sides, battered by months of anxiety and guilt ripping him apart. This much was evident in what he said next:

"What do you want from me, Shepard? What would you do if someone betrayed you?"

Shepard glanced over to the turian sitting to her left. They had arrived on the platform, and now were delaying getting out. She saw the haggardness written on his face; rage, though a great anesthetic, left terrible marks on his face.

"I'm not sure, but I wouldn't let it change me."

"I would've said the same thing before it happened to me," he responded.

"It's not too late. You don't have to go through with this."

Garrus growled in frustration as he shifted his body to face hers. "Who's going to bring Sidonis to justice if _I_ don't? Nobody else knows what he's done. Nobody else cares," he said quietly. "I don't see any other options."

"Let me talk to him."

"Talk all you want, but it won't change my mind," he quietly fumed. "I don't care what his reasons were, he screwed us...he deserves to die."

_Deserves to die?_ Garrus' voice had dropped another octave, as the last part of his sentence rang clearly in Shepard's mind. The Garrus that she was sitting next to was becoming dangerous—she almost saw angry sparks in the vehicle that reflected his burning ire inside.

"Garrus, I understand what you're going through—but do you really want to kill him?" she asked softly.

"I appreciate your concern, Shepard...but I'm not you."

"This isn't _you_, either!" she argued.

"Really?" came his voice, thickly laced with sarcasm, "I've always hated injustice. The thought that Sidonis could get away with this...Why should _he _go on living while ten good men lie in unmarked graves?" he turned away, opening the door to get out. "I'm sorry, Shepard. Words aren't going to solve this problem."

Up until now, Shepard had lived through situations which would have left anyone else scarred and traumatized. But now, faced with the prospect of forever losing her friend to his rage and need for revenge, Shepard couldn't help but feel that somehow she wouldn't be able to live through this one.

They exited the vehicle, as Garrus explained where he would be with his sniper rifle, and what Shepard needed to do. He would wait until Shepard brought Sidonis into position and kept him distracted. She would give him a signal, allowing Garrus to take the shot from an upper-level catwalk that he was currently perched on.

As Shepard and Jack made their way onto the main floor in front of the Orbital Lounge, they saw a figure seated on a bench in front. He was thinner than an average turian, and had a twitchy way about him, which gave Shepard the distinct impression that he was almost anticipating something bad to happen. Shepard hailed him over.

"Let's get this over with," he began anxiously.

"_Shepard, move to the side, you're in my shot,_" came Garrus' voice over her comm.

She didn't move. Instead, she took a deep breath and started talking:

"Listen, Sidonis. I'm here to help you."

Sidonis' eyes went wide with fear as he whispered harshly, "Don't ever say that name aloud." He looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

Shepard spoke up again, "I'm a friend of Garrus'," she explained, "He wants you dead, but I'm hoping that's not necessary." She made sure to mimic Sidonis' movements, keeping his her head in-between Garrus' scope and Sidonis' head.

"Garrus? Is this some kind of joke...?" he whispered anxiously.

"_Damn it, Shepard! What are you doing? Move to the side!_" Garrus' voice was harsh and ragged.

After scanning Shepard's face for some kind of clue that this was a joke, and finding none, Sidonis asked, "You're not kidding, are you?"

"_Shepard, if he moves, I'm taking the shot_."

Sidonis' voice became panicked as he made to escape, "Screw this. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems..." He started walking away, when Shepard grabbed his arm and pulled him back into her eye-line.

"Don't move," she warned. "I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head."

"Fuck," he sighed resignedly. "Look...I didn't want to do it...I-I didn't have a choice," he explained.

"_Everyone has a choice_," came Garrus' angry reply.

Sidonis went on, "They got to me. Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?"

"_Let me take the shot, Shepard. He's a damn coward!_" Garrus' voice crackled in her ear.

Shepard ignored it and continued talking to the turian pacing anxiously in front of her. "That's it? You were just trying to save yourself?"

When Sidonis spoke next, she heard the fight leave his voice, as he recounted wearily exactly what he had done. "I know what I did. I know they died because of me, and I have to live with that." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper, "I wake up every night...sick...and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me...accusing me. I know I'm a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste...some days I just want it to be over." He looked across the floor, gazing unseeingly at the groups of people walking by, talking and laughing. When he looked back at Shepard, her heart froze in her chest as she saw the despondency and guilt this turian carried with him.

Suddenly, she heard Garrus in her ear again, pleading with her, "_Just give me the chance."_

"You've got to let it go, Garrus. He's already paying for his crime," she replied.

Anger laced his voice, "_He hasn't paid enough. He still has his life..."_

"Look at him, Garrus, he's not alive," she reasoned. "There's nothing left to kill!"

"_My men...they deserved better,"_ Garrus replied. _"Shepard, if you don't move, I'm taking you out with him. Move to the side."_ There was a deadly calm about his voice, threatening in more detail what he had hinted to before. Shepard froze. _Would he do it? Does he want revenge so badly that he's willing to kill _me, _too?_ A low hum of panic rose in her chest, slowly suffocating her. She couldn't let Garrus take the shot; she knew he would regret it afterwards.

From where Garrus stood, he could see nothing over a red haze that covered his vision. He had been hunting this man—this coward for months, and _Shepard_ was preventing him from taking the shot that his blood craved for. _Words aren't going to solve this problem!_ His earlier words echoed in his mind, as he looked through the scope again. He saw the back of Shepard's head and nothing else. He swore to himself and to the corpses of his men that he would bring Sidonis to justice. He had swore it on their unmarked graves! His mind was split in two, frantically waging war against each other—one side desperately trying to get him to see reason, and the other screaming at him to take Shepard out if he needed to, as long as Sidonis was dead.

"_Shepard, move to the side. I don't want to hurt you. Let me take the shot!"_

"I'm sorry, Garrus. I can't let you do this. You _have_ to let it go, or take me down with him."

_Why was she protecting this traitor? _

"_Shepard!_" he pleaded.

_Why was she putting her life on the line for this coward?_

"_Damn it, Shepard!"_ he yelled one last time.

Garrus growled in frustration, as one side of his mind finally won over the other.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

*evil grin* Did you enjoy that?

I needed to make Garrus' loyalty mission more exciting and nerve-wracking, because I felt that Garrus' wouldn't let Sidonis go as easily as he did in the game. Garrus really struggles with himself, and Shepard definitely complicates things for him, since his mind screams at him to seek revenge while Shepard tells him otherwise. I hope I didn't disappoint in upping the anti a little bit. I definitely took some creative liberties with his mission, and I had a lot of fun. I won't say much more; Chapter 13 is being written soon.

Please let me know what you think! Failure to do so will result in imprisonment with Grunt who hasn't gone through his Rite of Passage yet. Yeah, he's an angry krogan.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Mass Effect, but I wish I did.

_**

* * *

Chapter 13**_

Shepard felt a sharp pain on her back as she fell to the ground.

She looked to the source and was shocked as she came face-to-face with none other than...

"Jack?"

The tattooed woman glanced to Shepard with an indescribable expression on her face.

"What?" she asked after a moment.

Shepard bit out, "What the hell was that for?"

"Tch," came the reply. "If you hadn't been so busy with your own fucking thoughts, you would have heard the shot that rang out."

Shepard froze where she was on the ground, a cold chill curling up her spine and lacing her body.

"What did you just say?" she asked quietly.

"The fucking turian pulled the trigger, and if you hadn't been so _busy__,_ you would've heard it."

Shepard glanced backwards, towards the upper catwalks, where she knew Garrus had been. He was nowhere in sight now. _He...tried to...shoot me..._she thought to herself in anguish. Garrus—the Garrus she had known would never in a millennia, think of even hitting her, let alone putting a _bullet_ in her head. She had been betrayed by the one person whom she thought she could trust—and consequently saved by the one person whom she thought she would _never_ be able to trust.

"Jack," she called out quietly, getting up from her current position, "Thank you."

"Tch, I didn't do it for _you_. You're the only person right now who can help me take down Cerberus. I'm not stupid enough to let you get hit by a fucking _bullet," _she spat out.

Shepard heard the truth in the woman's words and left it at that; no use looking a gift horse in the mouth, after all. Her mind, which had been sluggish since she hit the ground, now quickly caught up to the events going on around her, and she gave a start as she remembered—

"Sidonis!"

Sidonis stood frozen some distance away, as he too took in the meaning of what had just happened.

"T-that shot...t-that was for you, wasn't it?" he choked out, looking at Shepard fearfully.

Shepard shook her head uncertainly, "I'm not sure who or what that shot was for, although that seems to be what it looked like."

In all honesty, Shepard didn't know; if Garrus really needed to take out his target, his aim was unwavering and lethally precise. The fact that—wait. Wait. If Garrus had aimed for Shepard, she should have at least heard the sound of a bullet hitting something else when it missed its target. She should have felt the wind breaking if the bullet had passed her head; she should have been able to tell if it had indeed been aimed for her. Instead, as she looked around, she found no evidence of even the shell of a bullet or slug littered on the ground. Nor did she see a fallen being that had been hit by the unfortunate bullet instead. She saw...nothing out of the ordinary.

"Jack," Shepard called out cautiously, "Did you hear the shot go off?"

"I already fucking told you I did. Why the hell are you asking again?" the woman to her left bit out angrily.

"Did you happen to hear _where_ it went off from?"

Jack gave a pause and then retorted, "No, I was too busy knocking you down with my elbow to notice. Or care."

If the shot had rang out from directly behind then, then it was indeed true that the bullet had been aimed for Shepard. However, it there had been a slight break in the sound around them, such that the shot rang out from somewhere else, then...

"That shot wasn't meant to hit anyone, Shepard."

Shepard whipped around to face the voice of the person who had not been visible just moments before.

"Garrus?"

The turian she now faced had a tired look in his eyes, as he held her gaze steadily. _He was telling the truth_.

"I'm sorry to have given you yet another reason to not place your trust in me, Shepard. That shot wasn't meant to hit anyone; I..." he paused, "I...was holding the trigger, but I couldn't do it, so I shot to the sky in frustration. I'm sorry," he finished quietly.

Shepard saw in his eyes the rage that had been burning ferociously slowly ebbing away, leaving behind a pair of orbs that held an infinitely more amount of sadness and guilt. As this realization dawned on her, Shepard felt a swell in her chest as she realized that Garrus had _finally_ found the closure he needed on his quest for revenge.

As she looked on, she saw Garrus slowly move towards Sidonis in a manner not unlike trying to bring two magnets of the same charge together. He moved, every step ringing in the now mostly empty platform; each step held months' worth of pain and guilt that he had stored within himself—pain and guilt that had slowly eaten away at his self-control and sense of judgment. They now dissipated with every movement he made. When Garrus finally reached the turian that had been haunting his dreams and every waking moment, he carefully levelled his gaze and spoke:

"Go, Sidonis. Just...go."

"Garrus, I'll...I'll make it up to you...somehow," Sidonis whispered before he turned around and departed.

Watching Sidonis' retreating form, Garrus felt a strange sense of calm overwhelm his being; his heart, which had been furiously beating against his chest up until now, slowed its rhythm, and he dropped his head in his hands.

Shepard watched the exchange, and watched as Sidonis slowly disappeared around a corner. She looked over to Garrus, who was holding his face in his hands. She made to move towards him when she heard his voice ring out,

"Don't, Shepard. I know you want to talk about this...but I don't. Not yet."

"Give it time, Garrus; don't be too hard on yourself."

"Yeah. Maybe that'll be enough. Thanks, Shepard. For everything." His gaze traveled from Shepard to Jack, who stood leaning against a pillar behind Shepard. Jack was eyeing him carefully.

"Are you done with your melodrama, Vakarian?" her voice rang out, dripping with sarcasm.

Garrus made no move to take the bait. Instead, his response was quiet and aimed at both women:

"Let's get going. I need some distance from this place."

–

None of them spoke a word as they boarded the Normandy. Shepard a gave a quick nod to Joker as a greeting, but offered nothing more as she quickly made her way to her cabin. Jack's ever-present sneer accompanied her all the way to the lift as she headed back down to the darkened depths below the Engineering deck. Garrus's face was unreadable as he boarded, walking slowly and tiredly towards the lift where Jack had disappeared into not moments before; he needed to think about everything that had happened.

The entire crew aboard the Normandy felt the unmistakable sense of melancholy and slight tension in the air as the three disappeared separately to their respective spaces. Never had the Commander come back from a mission looking so...strange and not saying a word to anyone—not even Joker. Usually, regardless of how difficult the battle may have been, she always boarded with a humorous comment for Joker at the very least.

"Eesh, you'd think someone died..." Joker muttered more to himself than EDI.

"Mr. Moreau, you are well aware that there were no casualties?" the AI replied.

Joker heaved a sigh, "I was _joking_, EDI."

There was a slight pause before the AI responded, "That was not humorous, Mr. Moreau."

"Right, because _you_ know what funny is," muttered Joker. He began to plot out the appropriate flight vectors for their next destination—Illium, as per the Commander's orders.

"Hey EDI, make yourself useful and let the Commander know that we're on our way to Illium—ETA is 9 hours and 24 minutes."

"Mr. Moreau, you are aware that there is a master intercommunication station installed on board?"

"EDI, just do it, will you? I don't think the Commander feels like talking to anyone that's alive," he muttered irritably.

"The state of my existence is inconsequential to—"

"—just do it, will you? _Please_?"

After a pause, "Understood, Mr. Moreau."

–

Shepard had just stepped out of the shower when she saw EDI at the console. "Yes, EDI?"

"Mr. Moreau requested that I inform you of our current destination—Illium. Estimated time of arrival is 9 hours and 24 minutes," it responded with a hint of...was that irritation?

Shepard raised an eyebrow curiously, "Wait, he asked _you_ to deliver the message, when he knows how to use the intercom?"

"That is correct, Shepard. It seems he assumed that you preferred to talk to an AI than anyone on board."

At that Shepard spared an appreciative chuckle, "Seems I give him too little credit for his observation skills," she muttered to herself. "Thanks EDI. That'll be all."

"Understood, Shepard."

At the AI's departure, Shepard sank into the couch that had been placed in the corner of her quarters. _Garrus_, her mind thought. What was running through his mind right now? She knew he didn't regret not killing Sidonis when he had the chance, because despite what she had said and done in front of the Orbital Lounge, she knew that if he had really wanted to, he could've taken Sidonis out any anytime. Her head had not fully matched the height of Sidonis'; Shepard knew that Garrus had made the decision on his own, and for that, she was extremely proud of him.

Perhaps now the sadness in his eyes would slowly disappear, and the guilt in his heart would heal. She couldn't help but wonder if there was anything she could do to quicken the pace of healing. There was a sense of calm settling in her troubled heart, with the knowledge that Garrus had chosen to let Sidonis live. She would give him a few hours to come to terms with his decision, at which point she would go down to speak with him. If there was anything she could do well, it was get people to talk; she had come to a decision.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

First off, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter! Having said that, however, I'm sure you noticed that this chapter was much shorter than the previous ones, and it was completely intentional; Garrus' loyalty mission was rather angsty in and of itself, so I wanted to shorten the chapter in order to keep the angst in check. Hope you guys don't mind too much. :)

You will also have noticed that I took some heavy liberties with Garrus' loyalty mission in this chapter. In my mind, I saw this to be a more fitting ending than the one in the game, since I think it provides much more closure for Garrus. Originally, I had Garrus punch Sidonis before sending him on his merry way, but after reading that over, I felt like that defeated the whole purpose of exposition until now. So that idea was trashed. I took snippets of the in-game conversation and put some of it in here. There will be more of the mission dialogue later, however.

Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who has taken time out to review thus far, as well as all of you who've done me the incredible honor of adding either myself or my story to your Favorites/Alerts. If I could hug each and every one of you, I would! Please take the time out to review and let me know how the resolution of the last chapter settled with you. Thank you so much. :) Also, thanks to everyone who puts up with the tardiness of my posts. *hangs head* I'll try not to let it happen too often.

Now go and review before I lock you up with me _before_ I've had my morning coffee. :)


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